Poems Around the Easter Triduum

 This is a retro post of poems from 2019 that were originally on WordPress.



Picture: Olive Grove, Garden of Gethsemane, Jerusalem, Israel (February 2010).

I Couldn’t Go to Jerusalem or Good Friday

For Christians, Good Friday is a day to remember a life lived, and given away for others, even in suffering. This is for those who want to remember, but are not able to join others in Churches.

I couldn’t go to Jerusalem –

My mother-in-law just

Died

And we are mourning as

Burial is prepared.

 

I couldn’t go to Good Friday –

I’m a nurse

But

I saw the arms of the cross

In the open arms

Of a man

Reaching from the chair

As I moved him

To his bed.

 

I couldn’t go to Good Friday –

I’m at Lifeline

Taking calls

But

I heard the cry

“My God, why have you abandoned me!”

In the tone of a caller

Still reeling from abuse

By one once trusted.

 

I couldn’t go to Good Friday –

I’m old and

My days of driving

Are in the yesterdays of my life.

Family staying here

Won’t take me to Church

It means nothing to them

I wait in the

Tomb of my gloom

Longing to be

Raised to a new life.

 

They couldn’t go to Good Friday –

But we bring them there

If we go

And hold them there in prayer.

 

 Simon C.J. Falk 19 April 2019


Cloth Chatter – Easter Triduum Weaving

More reflections for Christians beginning the weeks of Easter.

(i)

His undergarment was seamless, so they cast lots for it (John 19:23-24)

I was fashioned to fit

My warp and weft

Wound in ways

To clothe the person.

The cloth maketh for the man.

I held his outer robes

And moved

With his healing hands.

I was a one-person piece

And they cast lots

For me

Like a commodity on the market.

 

(ii)

The veil in the Temple was torn in two (Luke 23:45)

I hung upon the threshold

Like a garment gathering greatness

A robe for the holiest place

Where God’s word reached

Human words

And was kept.

I held the holy in

And halted the passage

Of peoples coming into this sanctuary space.

At the Saviour’s final breath

I broke

In two

Both adorning the sanctuary

And opening

Like two arms

To welcome people into the holy.

No more a barrier

For the Saviour’s passing over

And now an entry point

For human

And divine.

 

(iii)

Saw the linen cloths on the ground, and also the cloth that had been over his head (John 20:6-7)

We held the battered body

One that had fashioned furniture

Fished with fisher disciples

Healed the sick

Broken bread and

Passed the cup.

We lined the lifeless body

In the cool, dark tomb

Holding the oils and spices

Upon the fragile flesh.

Now discarded

We are

On the ground

Back down to earth

Our role complete

We are now

A notion towards a mystery:

“Where is the Lord?”

 

(iv)

Do not cling to me (John 20:17)

I felt her touch

Urgent and inquisitive

Wondering

“Is it true?”

“Is it you, O Lord?”

As I held him in his new life

There was a quickening

So new

He was very alive

And love

Emanated from he

To her

And from her

As she ran

To share.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 20 April 2019

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