On Holy Saturday, you don’t know how it ends.<\/p>\n
It’s Saturday today:
\nWe want to believe in Sunday,
\nTo know of the new world in the morning.
\nBut we cannot see it
\nBecause it’s Saturday.<\/p>\n
It’s Saturday today:
\nWe want to pray to the living God,
\nBut the living God is cold and dead in the ground.
\nHe doesn’t hear
\nBecause it’s Saturday.<\/p>\n
It’s Saturday today:
\nAnd this is no noble death,
\nNo long life full spent.
\nAnd we cannot hope
\nBecause it’s Saturday.<\/p>\n
We cry empty Saturday tears.
\nAnd wonder whether God is big enough.
\nWhether he is not at the last
\ndefeated by human choice.
\nWhether love can conquer all.
\nWhether love can ever smile under the colours of the sun
\nor must it forever tarry in the grim half-light?
\nCan love ever, in the end, be more than longing, aching loss?<\/p>\n
On Holy Saturday, you don’t know how it ends.
\nBut fleshy God dies with us fleshy men
\nin the fallen Saturday world.<\/p>\n
Copyright 2012 Tom Brazier<\/p>\n