Good Saturday


It wasn’t good for us

Maybe not for God

Maybe God was weeping, too,

Though could not be hiding

Part of God was buried, though

Unless the strategy to

Harrow hell is more than

A medieval story


But first followers have no hope


Jesus is gone, buried quickly

Inside a sabbath regulation,

A guard set to keep anyone from

Trying anything


But disciples are not ghouls

The body did not matter, anymore

Except that there were those

Who though the body

Should be spiced,

A practical and spiritual



Hopeless people might not

Have cared

Jesus was gone, the movement failed

Neither the zealots nor the

Gentler ones could have their way

From him

No that there wasn’t drama:

Judas took his money, then

Destroyed his own part

In everything


Maybe there were those who had

If in a maudlin way

Celebrated political victory

Death of the teacher

Who had rabble-roused

And inconvenienced leadership

If only in the heart


Herod who lived

Might be pleased

He could set up the cross next to

The platter also soaked in blood

A museum to the worldly-


And, to those who know,

An emptiness of soul


Who were the followers?

Where were they?

It seemed they fled

No one among them moved

Except some women and

A young man

Nothing threatening there


The Earth hides quietly today

Maybe the sun will bathe

The hilltop of Golgotha

Maybe rain will do even more

To cleanse


The people who are left

They have no faith

No hope

They have forgotten anything about

What could happen next

They are tired, frightened, aware of

Their parts as outcasts and outlaws


Only a few hold on to strings of prophecy

Maybe remembering the life, the

Healings, the lessons from their teacher

But he is bodily gone

This is the dreaded day in-between

Only they don’t know

There is another side


C L Couch



Photo by Jordan Christian on Unsplash

Beartooth Highway, United States


Holey Week 7