Passion Sunday / Good Friday
Mark 15:1–41
1. Pilate
Could I have resisted
the tsunami of jealous rage,
its sharp long intake of fear,
its thunderous crash at my gate?
Could I have trusted
my twisting, knotted gut
responding to his silence,
his resistance, peaceful, calm, and true?
Could I have insisted
on punishing the guilty,
letting innocence be free
from their corruption, from the fire?
It is done.
I let them win.
No less fearful than his foes.
Much less than I could have been.
2. Soldiers
on my own,
I thought him noble
on my own,
I found him compelling
on my own,
I keep bindings looser than to cut
but
with the whole cohort
he was an enemy
with the whole cohort
he seemed a mockery
with the whole cohort
he bled from our own wounds
3. Simon of Cyrene
I was relieved
that moment they released
me from the crossbeam
I was glad
to walk away, aching
but not nailed to the wood
then I collapsed,
some greater weight convulsing
me with weeping, weeping, weeping
I was with him
in the walking to the hill,
I'm with him still, though free, though free
4. Women
from a distance
we were watching
bearing witness
bearing courage for each other
bearing love and soul and all
at the tearing of the sky
the tearing of the veil
the tearing of our hearts –
wail!
wail!
wail!
He is dead.
He is dead.
He is dead.
