Easter Poem
Good Friday, Better Sunday
We call the Friday he suffered good
When nothing good occurred
He suffered like no one ever should
All of his Holy rights deferred
Jesus hung, dying and nailed to a cross
Allowing all darkness to come and reside
From their eyes this was the ultimate loss
Even one of His strongest disciples chose to hide
He called out to His Father and said
Forgive them for they know not what they do
This was moments before His body would be dead
Moments before we would all be made new
In the end, He almost could not take any more
Pleading with God for Why has he been forsaken
With His last breathe the temple curtain tore
He was indeed the Messiah this could not be mistaken
On the Sunday which was the third day
Jesus had risen and No he cannot die again
He was the Messiah, so dead he could not stay
This new covenant means the Lion of Judah will reign
Oh what a happy and better day Sunday was
For my cross I will never have to bare
The feeling of Satan’s unclenching claws
Causes me to surrender as I say the Lord’s Prayer.
Amen.
