Saturday, April 23, 2011

Poetry: Days of Creation

Had Nietzsche been around on the first Holy Saturday, he would have been right when he said, "God is dead."  That idea is what inspired this poem, though certainly not the way Nietzsche meant it.

Days of Creation

You fashioned all creation in the work of Seven Days.
You know where the foundation-stone of all creation lays.
Your love ignites the stars that pour their light into the sky.
Your love was poured out on the cross, and for us did You die.

You blew Your breath into the clay that by Your Word was made.
When You drew breath our words of hate were how You were repaid.
You made us clothes by Your own hand when all was sin and loss.
We took Your clothes and cruelly nailed Your hands onto the cross.

The Seventh Day You hallowed though You did not need to rest.
The hollowed earth received You when the spear had pierced Your breast.
Your angels hovered over us to guard us as we slept.
The guards we posted at Your tomb cared not when women wept.

You gave a firm foundation when in stone You set Your Law.
The stone was cracked and pushed aside, and weeping women saw
Into the tomb in which You took Your sanctifying rest.
They ran and found the others and all this to them confessed:

"The Master's tomb is empty, and the angel said He lives!
He spoke to us upon the road; to us this charge He gives:
To tell you He is Risen, and to never be afraid."
And two of the apostles went to see where You were laid.

And so it was, on the Sixth day, You re-created man,
And on the Seventh day You rested for a sacred span.
And though we may think that these days of all days are the worst,
The Sixth and Seventh Days do pass and give way to the First.

Rest up.  Tomorrow is a big day.

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