Good Friday Poems

Togetherly Taut


I don’t see Calvary, Father.

Come along, Cross, and I will bear you up.

Together we will make an oblation,


Our flesh against each other,

Torn away and fastened,

Broken from our source,

Cut from the root of life.


I cannot see the way, Father.

And so I cling to you, Cross; you will lift me.

Against mediocrity’s indifference we will stand,


Our parts stretched and maligned

We will become one against division.

Our bodies divided, my heart pierced,

Your flesh will be my anchor.


Cling to me, Cross, hold me up.

I cannot imagine the end, Father.

Your lifeless body, Cross, draws out my life.


From its depths, life speeds forth.

From corners and crevices,

Out seethes a flow of raw life,

And it runs over your scarred surface.


I cannot ask the way anymore, Father.

You weigh me down, Cross, your burden is my hope.

In you I see my end, in your splinters there stings my glory.


In the desperate balance we hang,

Against one another we pull.

Do not bring me down until you taste

The last drop dried upon your open flesh.



A Tantrum at Golgotha


Stop! Enough with this painful dying.
You needn't prove anything to me.
What do you gain by leaving me behind?
In all my ceaseless trying,
You think that this is the epitome
of all love and devotion of any kind?
Foul! I need no savior, but a lover.
How can you love from your lofty tree?
But rather come down, embrace me now.
You know, as I, for love there is no other
but the presence of you to set me free.
Yet you go on with this senseless vow,
As if your death could give me joy.
As if my loss could be a gain.
How, then, fine Christ, can you save
When my gladness in your presence
In your shameful dying you destroy?

If I cannot be with you, your death is vain!
If indeed I cannot have every promise you gave!
Enough!  What solution is there in this madness,
But that upon your cross I too relieve my sadness?