Good Friday


“It was now about the sixth hour
and, with the sun eclipsed, a darkness
came over the whole land
until the ninth hour. The veil of the Temple
was torn right down the middle; and
when Jesus had cried out in a loud voice,
he said, ‘Father, into your hands I commit
my spirit.’ With these words
he breathed his last.”
(Luke 23: 44-46, The Jerusalem Bible)

Our days lengthened toward this Darkness
we could not comprehend. Who now
would deliver us from Evil? Where were
the angel armies, their flaming swords

cleaving Satan and his minions–the Good Fight
scouring the smirks from the plague of pharisees
so quick to cast us out, the irony of never being in,
we Unclean stumbling blind to the pool of

healing waters, shoved aside, our limbs twisted
from the passion of sharp rocks, deliberate
tearing our chest, screaming from the tombs,
demon-possessed herds of swine,

lemmings tumbling over cliffs to our only
salvation–the dark deep sea. Lord, have mercy.
Jesus, Oh Christ, have mercy! How could you
go gently to that cross we could not bear,

Thanti Riess

spikes splitting your palms that mixed a salve
of spit and dirt to anoint blind eyes,
your feet pinned together, broken, your body
exposed to the crows thronged at the foot

of what is now your cross, cawing Crucify, Crucify.
Jesus, we implore you, Come Down, multiply
the heavens with God’s avenging angelic hosts
rending the veil of separation.

Jordan Whitt

Rend those you commanded us to love.
Look what it got you, what it got us, eleven now
cowering behind barred doors, praying
lead us not into despair, the desperation

of routed followers. The candle out.
Darkness descended.

Rob Long