A poem in honor of Good Friday:
Matthew 27:52
When the sepulchers ruptured
And expelled cadavers haltingly
To strut their shrouded knees and elbows forth,
Those ashen eyes did not perceive the stars above
Or in what orbit Venus moved
While the moon obscured the sun.
This exalted carrion chased instead the gale
Along the streets and roads of
Jerusalem’s outer quarter,
To engage the startled rabble,
Before the squall released its puppet’s grip
And let them fall clattering upon
Once-familiar thresholds and passageways,
Bearing—before startled eyes—brief witness
To the passing of the medial swain,
Who dangled on a tree between two thieves.
John Farrell