Friday, March 29, 2013

Good Friday by Christina Rossetti

I thought it only fitting that I post Christina Rossetti's poem titled Good Friday. It resonates with me in the feeling of being so familiar with and desensitised to all that Easter really means.


Good Friday

Am I a stone and not a sheep,
   That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
   To number drop by drop Thy Blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
   Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
   Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
   Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon—
   I, only I.

Yet give not o’er,
   But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
   And smite a rock.

~Christina Rossetti

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