By Herbert Woodward Martin
The cathedral is empty; the tomb is bare from the body
That occupied it from that tragic Friday no one envisioned
Emptiness as its own pain, brain wondering about loss
Who is responsible for this disturbance
Breathlessly searches for a lost coin.
Disturbance is aloft.
Who is responsible for vacating this tomb?
How will these mothers rest their eyes in contemplation?
What cautions will they take?
What Scribe takes responsibility for writing their story?
Will they remember to place their names and birth dates
And any other information relevant to these days?
What shall the late followers take from these days?
What shall we remember about of these convictions?
With what breaths shall we take to survive?
I enjoyed reading.
Wonderful weaving of religious imagery and pandemic fears and concerns. Double meanings throughout.