no where do I feel so inclined
to take the shoes from my feet
as when I am near the cross
the tomb is dark
the earth is cool
the aroma of spices fills the air
the setting sun ushers in a High Holy Day
a day of forced rest
with time for quietness and reflection
this Sabbath day is kept holy
and there are those who mourn deeply
the small group of women
consumed with sadness
the men who followed Christ
grieve together
Pilate
weary after a night dreaming of blood
Caiaphas
worried someone would steal the body
sends soldiers to guard the tomb
and all the while
the Lord of the Sabbath
crashes through the gates of hell
to proclaim victory over sin and death
how many Lord
embrace the dance of death
while You declare life
how I long to live in the realm where You move and work
though hope seems sealed up in a tomb
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