living in saturday

A few weeks ago, I wrote an account of Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday from Mary's potential perspective (here). Since then I've often felt like my day-to-day reflects so much of that Saturday, after Good Friday, before Sunday. Today some of the words came out. 

read slowly. breathe between each line. it's not in a hurry. 

the tension, the waiting

torn between what is true and what is true

reality and promises

death and life

hope and hell

oh calm down 

don’t want to be awake 

don’t know what’s going on in there

don’t know how to know

don’t want to do this wrong

aching

healing, supposedly

worn 

resting, I thought

heavy

isn’t his burden light? 

just turn off for a bit please

just stop time for an hour

let me sit and stare at nothing 

and not wish I’d been doing something else

let me learn to feel the moment

before the moments are all gone

before my trial and error wastes it

not dumb

just tired

not faithless

just discouraged

maybe losing some faith

so ready to be proved wrong

sorry for the fake

it’s not you, it’s me

it’s still under a lid that I don’t know how to lift

and never seem to find the right moment

it’s never convenient

always next time

except sometimes it leaks out

some places

some people

 

some moments

it won’t be held in always

the ice-cold lava 

too difficult to ignore

too easy to ignore 

usually 

the wait 

yes, I know what I’m waiting for

it’s just so far away

what about today?

but the seconds are ticking

people are moving

can’t stay like this

you know what to do

keep going

get up