Easter Triduum Part 2: Good Friday

This one’s a bit raw, friends.

On this dark day, when we remember the unimaginable suffering of our Savior, I think I will let the poem speak for itself.

Good Friday

Fine.
Have it your way.
Take me at my silver-plated word
Believe me when I say
I want to share in your sufferings
Break and bleed with you and with my neighbor
Find oneness in pain with a pain-ridden world
That all may rejoice more fully
In the resurrection.
If you can’t (or won’t) distinguish
Between wanting what is right
And wanting to want it
Then go ahead.
Hold me to the spirit of the law
Beyond the carefully measured letter
To which I had so faithfully adhered
– But, no more of that.
We’ll play by your rules
(As if I had a choice)
– Quick, hold my tongue before I start complaining
Composing tender symphonies
Of stacked decks
And loaded dice
Wringing toxic tears from my convex eyes
– Quick, now, remind me
Before I drown in my own woe’s sick beauty
That the dice are an illusion
(narcotic, sweet, self-soothing)
The decks are propaganda
(stacked or otherwise)
For there are no gamblers here.
Here is only the Word
Spoken, lived, unflinching
How can I blame the mouth for being sole possessor?
Nor can I blame the Word for being true
– Quick, please, help me
Before the lashing out, the falling in
Help me to believe (again)
That Part 1 proven
Guarantees Part 2.
For here I am
Sharing in your sufferings
Bleeding and breaking with you and with my neighbor
No longer (quite) as sure of resurrection
– But isn’t that the point?
“Hope that is seen is no hope at all.”
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
– Quick – NOW – oh, please, hold my hand
And, with the other, turn up the heat
Hold me here while plating melts away
And I will say
In oneness with the almost-silver’s scream:
Whose idea was it
– no, really, who in hell decided –
To call this Friday ‘Good’?