Good Friday
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter, weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon –
I, only I.
Yet give not o’er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.
The fact that there are so few has been annoying to me. Trying to find poems on holy week you are about as likely to run into poems about the Easter Rising as you are actually about Holy Week. For instance Joyce Kilmar's Easter Week always shows up.
ReplyDeleteIndeed! I've found exactly the same phenomenon looking for books about Easter!
Delete