The Day of Preparation (Lent Poems 25)

It is finished and the night looms.
The darkness hangs as a cloak above,
Tremulous but not quite dropping,
And together, under cover of light, we take
His still limp bundle of bones (all of them we can see
Through the veil of his skin) and take it down
To the garden where the empty tomb waits:
The best we both yet have to give.
Our peers walk swiftly from the scene,
Ready for a rest so dearly bought, to wash
Their hands and sit inside their houses closed
From his words of shaking mercy:
Father, Forgive them. We knew not then
What we did, when we stood amongst the crowd.
Now we leave them. Now we take our lifeless lord,
A moment, maybe, just too late,
Yet still the best that we can give.
Is it finished? The night looms;
The darkness hangs as a cloak above,
Tremulous, yes, but not quite dropping.
And together, under cover of light,
We take his still limp bundle of bones,
And give the best we have to give:
A garden where his body may wait.

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