I try to put on a sad face and think somber thoughts
     on this the darkest of days in our year.

Good Friday!

When the inner eye should fill with scenes of storm
     and mangled men dangling from poles.

But I can’t.

I’m too conditioned by the Christian optimism
     that sees a risen Savior where others see a dead Messiah.

And yet.

This world exhibits no cause for Easter hymns.

Cains are still striking down Abels.
Noahs are still drunk and naked.
Davids are still leering at Bathshebas.

Each song of hope smolders like smoke from a guttered candle.
Then the house itself is flattened by the howling storm.
And all is darkness.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken us?

The Cyber-Psalms