For Holy Saturday

I wrote this poem several years ago as I attempted to imagine how the followers of Jesus might have been feeling after his death.

In Between

Where did you go

when you finished, exhaled?

Your last breath, a whisper,

brought madness to earth,

tore sky and ground. Time

stood still, dead walked.

Friends, stunned with your leaving,

stayed close to what remained

of you, your spirit unreachable.

We waited, broken, in silence

for what? We did not know.

A shroud of sorrow

bound us tightly.

We waited and wondered

where did you go?

by Kim Pollack © 2019

April Poem

For April

Rain snow rain

wet slap on windows.

Winter slides away

with each bird

carrying hope

past my door.

Twigs and bits

of last year’s life

to build nests

and shelter dreams.

What have I learned

in all these springs?

Nothing is ever lost.

All is gathered

recycled

repurposed

pressed into service

made over again

made right again.

High in the apple tree

a robin sings.

Gradually, gaunt-faced guilt

goes into the ground.

And waiting like

a wide-eyed child

I see emerging

among the dead

a gift of green

riding through the rain

fragile but sure

because it is time

to come alive again.

Copyright 2019/by Kim Pollack