We wait in anticipation for the coming joy in the Resurrection. How wretched Christ’s family must have been on this day. It reflects my own bereavement as I remember my beloved Auntie who had gone to her final rest this past week.
I wrote the above first before reading Malcolm’s reflection and I find that I have echoed his words so I must be connecting at the right level. It is a bizarre day caught in the betwixt and between, that magic space between the moon setting and the sun rising. Malcolm’s two “Stations of the Cross” sonnets, XIII and XIV are exquisite in capturing the absolute epitome of Easter Saturday; his words resonate deeply within me.
‘This is ground zero, emptiness and space
With nothing left to say or think or do,
But look unflinching on the sacred face
That cannot move or change or look at you’.
(“XIII Jesus’ body is taken down from the cross” (c) Malcolm Guite 2014)
We move forward then from the harsh empty Cross to the cold tomb and wait in hope for my Morning Star in the flickering flames of the Easter Fire.