Good Friday 2017.(Revised).

For the first time this week there is no sun.
Dawn, a yellow paleness between grey clouds,
Spits of rain in the wind.
The noise of traffic on the M1 this morning
seems strangely muffled.
Sounds from another century half remembered
as I sneak back into bed, going nowhere fast.

I turn on the bedside radio;
Tenebrae Responses for Good Friday.
Gesualdo mocked by sorrow; his murders cruel,
                                                               and trite,
small tales of jealousy, of sneaky trysts in corners
when all the lights flicked out.
Murder has always been an everyday occurrence,
something to get away with if you are a Count,
a Commander in Chief, a Tetrarch,
but strictly forbidden to all the common folk.
Today we recall the darkness of Golgotha.
The music of Gesualdo crackles through the static.

The Man of Sorrows tests the nails and wood
with expert fingers before the hammers strike,
splitting his wrists and ankles with quick blows,
efficient, but cowardly.
This is a murder sanctioned by authority,
one of thousands designed to keep the peace
in a tiny fly blown province in the east.
The people are morose, stiff necked, plain spoken.
They believe the power of Rome can easily be
                                                                    broken.

This afternoon I shall kneel beneath the cross,
and wonder why bronze nails were struck so hard
into a man who spoke of peace and love.
Who cured the mad, the blind. Who washed the
                                                                 leper clean.
Who drove the petty traders from the Temple Court.
But herein gleams an answer, a candle in the night.
Love shines a light into the face of power,
and reveals an empty space where Truth should be.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 14th. - 15th. - 27th. 2017.