Holy Saturday

It is this day that is the hardest
    in a week called Holy.
Not the intimacy of baring feet
    or breaking bread
    Nor even the stunning violence of the
    hill of skulls, the bloody ground beneath too many crosses.

This is the hardest, this in-between day.
    Feet are clean
    Bread has been shared and eaten
    The cries of battered, broken bodies are
    stilled.

This Vigil.  This Holy Waiting --
    this is hardest, if we remember.
If we remember that we do not know what
    resurrection will bring.
The One we wait for will not be what we expect.
Not then.
Not now.

Waiting for resurrection is harder
    than remembering death.