Good Friday

                   You, my love, my victim, my mystery, so close to my splinters, so faithful to my nails, bleeding my blood, crying my                   silence, all of my aching for, all of my running from, my suicide foisted, my horrid, ruin, my anguish, my                   sorry,

you, my grief, my trembling, my can't, my hollowing sorrow, my lonely, my                   dead,

you, our excuse, our cursing, our blind, our using confusing abusing, our that's bow it goes, our system, so fit of our shadow, so form of our fear, our prey, our failure to                   pray,

how can I face you, wearing my face, how can I see you, being my stranger, my other, my                    us,

with these eyes so broken? this anguish so whole? this heart so                   un?

Yet you, so emptied of fear, of self, of have, so poured out, so vacant of all of it                   but God, cleaned out in forgiveness, dying for love,— you are so here, so yes, so alive, so far beyond death's reach, so surely already                   risen.


__________________ Steve Garnaas-Holmes Unfolding Light

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