Good Friday

(A Meditation on Grief)

And so,
life goes on.
People buying
and selling,
eating
and drinking,
caring
for their children,
laboring
in the fields.

Life goes on.
The show is over.
Nothing left
to be seen.
All ended
abruptly
with the click
of a closing door.

Is that all?
Have we finished?
I long,
like the women,
to stay
and keep watch.
To sit
beside the tomb.
To remain
close to you,
for as long
as I can.

Life goes on.
The grass
continues
to grow.
Bees buzz
as they bumble
from flower
to flower.
Lambs bleat
all around,
seeking their mothers’ milk,
not knowing
how brief
their time on earth
will be.

Life goes on,
but not for those
whose lives
have just been shattered.
The pieces jagged
and scattered,
impossible to mend.
For them,
time has stopped.
Or they wish
that it had.
They wish the rest
of the world
would simply
stop,
too.

How can anyone laugh?
How can anyone dance?
How can anyone eat
or sleep
or sing?
Don’t they know
what has happened here?
Don’t they know?
Don’t they care?

Life goes on,
but not
for me.

Good Friday
7th April 2023
Isle of Iona

Copyright Diana E. Carroll