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?