Good Friday by Nancy Rakoczy
death is a door
Love entered for us,
removing the locks
and gave us the key.
In death’s fiery furnace
Love’s waiting there;
truth’s heavy sword
cuts heart soul and mind.
death’s raging fire
is Love’s cleansing flame:
the victim no victim
outwitting the dark.
in death’s scribbled book
the world’s sorrows writ large,
Love restores chapters
wrest from death’s left hand.
to death’s extreme answer
comes Love’s firm reply:
new life springs up
midst the dust smoke and ash.
Love’s final question
demands our reply:
can sorrow get peace
will peace replace ire?