Poems for Holy Week (IV)
Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, “So! You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross and save yourself!” In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves. “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! Let this Messiah, this king of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” Those crucified with him also heaped insults on him.
At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”(which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).
(See also PSALM 22)
So far from the words of my groaning,
my God, you do not respond. The day
is night and I am a worm
in the downpour. Yet you are holy.
I am the skunked wine they lift
and spill over this desert tongue;
I am encompassed, I am hung
by a madness so complete they call it sane—
your name be praised. My God,
what have you done? The wick
grows dim, the wax runs, I melt—
I cannot fill myself with breath—
and would you snuf me out?
-Sarah Crowley Chestnut