Holy Saturday is a confusing day. Thankfully, we know the good news of it leading to Easter Sunday. But, is there something to be learned from its initial uncertainty? Is there an invitation to learn to pray more vulnerably on a day like Saturday?
"Saturday"
Rain on Holy Saturday
You seem to fit what the heart can’t say
Grieved, uncertain, and shrouded in gray
Rain is the language of Saturday
Birds still sing, as if they know something
But I don’t after death anticipate
As though underground a garden is now growing
And I have one thing to do: wait
This poem is in my book, "The Rage Against Grace"
