Wednesday, March 03, 1999

poem: Holy Saturday

Holy Saturday (that's the day before Easter Sunday for those who don't know)

Camelot evaporates,
Like sun-warmed mist and dew
It disappears.
How am I to understand the pain,
How am I to comprehend it?
How am I to find my place in this world?
I groan, eager for the redemption.
But it is Easter Saturday, and the resurrection has not yet come.
We have only a promise, for
We live out our lives on Saturday.