Some Paschal Poems

In Vigils

How still he lays

As one already in the tomb,

Content to know his last of days

Is reckoned as of noon.

How eased his heart, in torment raised,

Is he, who marches towards his doom.

Yet in such breath, one shattered phrase,

He promises to see us soon.

For to his death, he climbed to save

From what we choose to be our boon.

My Savior Lord, we seal the grave

Await'n your rising with next moon.

Agony

Knelt down with dirt here round in cobbled garden

While gazed upon by Mother's statue there

Numb hands sure darting harming weeds in ardent

Care, to Ease what pain inflicts that figure fair.

For my cold hands compare with naught to hers

Which held those hands, who for our sake endured

To be so pierced straight through the bones and nerves

And be stretched out to make my heart be pure. 

Yet I complain the winds too in my eyes

And clothed with dew, the mingling with my blood

Shivering shakes the fists up at the sky

For mixing my misfortune with the mud. 

But there you hanged upon that hallowed tree,

No thought of death deterred your thought of me.

Why the Tomb?

Why do in sleep you seem to spend the day?

The world is harkning towards its chosen doom.

Yet here you lie now reckoned in the tomb,

Although you promised you'd be here to save.

In Satan's world the only thing we say

Is "my me dumb and you be dumb is true"

And "I be smart and I be great" as two

As held in union. Surely proudest price to pay...

So could you come to break these brittle chains? 

Hark! You aren't asleep amasked in sleep of death!

You're breaking our forefathers who have left

Us dead, free from bonds that they have made!

And now you come with cross by which you laid

Low Satan and all claiming to his name.