No special honor for the forgotten day
Between the crucifix and Sunday.
Just dreaded surrender to the hand of Fate:
If God came at all He came too late
To save his son, or rescue me.
Life is broken dreams and a bloody tree.
What does your future look like? Is it as rosy as it was 48 hours ago, or does each new day bring a crushing weight? You wake up hoping yesterday was a bad dream, but the sunlight reveals that you are, in fact,
Afraid
Alone
Abandoned.
Sunday isn’t good for anything if we can’t make it through Saturday. And as far as the Easter story goes, the Bible is pretty much silent on what happened Saturday. Maybe it’s because planet Earth was left to fend for itself for a day? It would have served us right, but I don’t think that’s it.
Saturday is, if anything, a day when Heaven is silent. We fill the time as best we can, but sorrow enters with every breath. Every heartbeat echoes in the vault left empty when hope fled away.
If you are there today- suspended between heaven and hell- then all I can say is this:
If there is anybody near you, then grab a hand and HANG ON. If nobody is there, send me a message. Really, I’m not kidding. I’ll hang on with you, and I know some others that will too.
Cuz we gotta get through to Sunday.
