Circadian Poems

A place to celebrate poetry, poets, and the creative spirit.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Good Friday

Good Friday
By Brenda Braene

Last Sunday
we left the church
carrying palms
that next year
will bless our skulls
on Ash Wednesday.

Last night
we left the church
in silence
as the altar
stripped bare.

Today we sit
listening at 3 pm
as the bells toll
to signify
Murder.

I am supposed to feel reverent.
I am supposed to feel
glad
that a
man
was nailed to a cross
to save
me.

I did not ask
for someone to die
to save me.

I do not feel
Awe.
I feel
Anger.

I remember going to
Church
as a little
Girl
with my sisters
and grandmother.

Holy Week
meant shifting around
on hard pews
in itchy clothes
until we could go home
and
Eat
Chocolate eggs
which we were not
supposed to find
until Easter morning

But our parents
“hid” some
where we could find them
Early.

I do not want
anyone to die
for me.
I want
the world
to
Live.




Brenda Braene is a frequent contributor to Circadian Poems. Her blog is Poet Meets Muse, and she shares a recently sorely neglected websites with her Jane Austen-loving sisters, The Three Braenes.

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