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Good Friday
Blessings this Good Friday. This poem was written by Rosemary Blake, a poet who was studying theology at the same time I was at Regis College in Toronto. She is from Australia and now lives in Toronto, Canada. One Good Friday, Rosemary gave us this poem which I have treasured. It’s now published in her book of poetry, Wintering.
Good Friday
Always I remember in Easter Week
the sudden storms; the dark
on Friday after church, as if the weather
had been specially arranged.Summer was over and autumn
with its random dry winds
was beginning.
You could feel the warm soil
and parched grass close.But after the service,
after the cool stone quiet of the aisles,
you were always astonished
by the way the storms came
dark and sudden from the northwest,
startling the paddocksAs though a figure on the rough beams
really hung there.~ Rosemary Blake in Wintering
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{ 1 comment }
i have chills reading this. so beautiful. what is it about good friday that really does leave an emptiness in the center of your being, a chill across your cheek?
i cannot wait until sunday.
xoxo,
laura