who can listen to barber’s adagio for strings

and not experience again whatever pain

and suffering life brings?

i listen and see, without a glimmer of hope,

the passion and the finality of death

echoed in the final notes.

the sweep of good friday from beginning

to end sends thoughts rushing again

of my own suffering,

but there is the hesitancy and doubt

of saturday and eventually easter

and light throughout.

without those notes how would I get there?

without friday and saturday why

would i for others even dare

to enter into their lives and offer care

and, together, hope upon the light to stare?