good friday

I woke up slowly to
sunbeams streaming,
sleepy-eyed sons
and a psalm of praise.

You never slept
body aching from a night
of tears and prayers,
a morning in court but
no justice.

At noon we played
with friends
under early spring sun
an easy laughter
in our lungs.

Your midday sky went dark
as the curtain tore,
a last breath shuddered
through sagging ribs
and a broken heart.

In the late afternoon
we climbed over driftwood
and squinted into the
sea breeze with
wind in our hair.

As evening approached
they pried your body
from the boards,
life-author limp and
bound in linen cloths.

Tonight I will sleep
in your hard-won peace:
freed through bondage,
washed in blood,
alive by death.