compositions from holy week

Thursday // Gethsemane 

How can I sleep tonight

When you did not?

You tremble 

In fear 

You know

Just like them 

I am also a disciple

And my eyes are heavy 

Stay awake, you said,

But you knew 

I would try

And fail 

If only 

I could step

Out of myself 

And feel your agony 

Your soul’s anguishing 

“Your will be done”

The surrender 

To die 

And I

See only 

Through fog

Of a sleepy mind 

Oh brave and bold one 

I left you all alone 

And you knew

I would 

Tomorrow 

I will fail you 

But you loved me 

Through all the failures 

Oh anguishing Jesus

I am so unworthy 

You are worthy

Alone

Friday // Crucifixion 

Your battered body

Tender hands torn 

Lifeless limbs 

Crown of thorns 

Caress your head

Wash your side 

I will hold you

Rabboni

They pierced your heart 

And they pierced mine 

I am no hero

It’s you that died 

But I’ll stay with you 

I’ll stay and cry 

For I have loved you

Rabboni 

You’ve been rejected 

And I will too 

But I will suffer 

All with you 

I will never 

Turn my eyes 

From your deep love 

Rabboni

Saturday // Dead 

Oh Holy Saturday,

I have walked your barren path, 

I have felt your shallow breaths,

I have touched your tombstone door. 

You, my silent companion, 

Shocked as I am, 

Going about your tasks 

Of rising and setting

Because you must. 

There is nothing left to do. 

We stare at each other blankly, 

And just keep being,

Little more. 

But that is enough. 

Just to wait a little longer. 

Oh resurrection come.

Sunday // Resurrection 

Never before have I so distinctly noticed the rejection in the resurrection. The repeated phrase “but they did not believe her.” That in many gospel accounts Sunday was only a day of rejoicing for one woman, and she rejoiced with tear-filled eyes and a bruised heart, watching the unaccepting faces of her brothers. Her joy was only in the true knowledge, truer than she knew truth could be, that the Teacher is alive and the kingdom is now. That nothing has changed, but everything is changing. 

The Son has risen. Of course he has.

I am in a little valley, still shadowed by the mountains, though I see the traces of light peeking high above me, reflecting off the birds. It is still dark in this valley but the son is rising. Of course He is.