Betwixt and between
is how he sees Holy Week and Halloween.
He’s too old for a mask
but for candy loves to ask.
For Holy Week, it’s the same.
Some he likes, some he disdains.
He’s got things backwards
even, sometimes, a lack of words
to describe how he feels
why some don’t and some do appeal.
He likes the somber and morose
more than Easter’s hearty toast.
Ironically, an extrovert who likes it quiet
rather than the hyped-up riot:
“He is RISEN!”
and the raucous response,
“He is risen INDEED!”
sounds more like a cheerleader’s shout
than a profoundly affirmative creed.
He would rather just sit in quiet gratitude
with no detectable attitude,
so maybe he’s more
a Holy Saturday guy
than in Easter’s exuberance fly.
He’s just thankful
not to be left in the tomb
and happy to be emerging from the womb,
born again of the spirit to catch his breath
and begin to wave farewell
to the sting of death.