A no-thing day.
No table, no cross, no empty tomb.
Deep down soil, earthiness—
Hidden treasures perhaps.
Seeds waiting for mystery to unfold
In unexpected, ground-breaking energy…
The Spirit lives.
Holy Saturday time:
The life we knew, no more.
Old symbols fail to move,
Rituals seem out of sync.
Experience cries to be given wings,
To find new horizons,
To spiral out in widening ripples of inclusion,
Of oneness and newness.
Hope is born.
Perhaps tomorrow will be Easter.
Judy Brunell, OP