At the Tomb

Looking out at the night sky from an empty tomb

We come stumbling to the tomb,
lamps in hand:
small, flickering flames
cruelly snatched away
by a cold wind;
and for a time we are left,
in darkness.
But then,
in slow motion,
the sun begins its daily dance,
until the distant horizon becomes clear,
and the promise of what lies beyond
shapes itself through our tears.

© Rev’d. Sr. Sandra CSBC
5th October 2015

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Christmas Poems

Easter Poems

Ash Wednesday

Maundy Thursday

Good Friday

Holy Saturday

Easter Day

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