Good Friday
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I looked toward you--
	Smelled the acrid odour of vinegar and dripping sores
	Touched the ripped flesh hanging, dangling, between earth and heaven

I looked away--
	Heard the breathless cries, the bitter anguish
	Felt the cold darkness settling on the earth

I looked back--
	Stared hard one last time 
	Saw myself through blood-stained glasses

Holy Saturday
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The time for rest is at hand.
The work now completed, the 
Sabbath fills its role in the
life of the faithful as they
wait for Messiah to come.

Messiah has come, and they
in screaming crowds assigned Him
His Sabbath rest here in this
tomb. We now wait, in quiet
cells, for the Sabbath to end.

Easter Sunday ( a haiku )
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The empty gravesite
Power indescribable
A world changed for good