The Poetry of Lent – Good Friday

Morning Walk

Into the deepening desert
I walk a path alone,
Over briars and thorns.

My heart reaches out
To the Lord.

“Sister,” he says,
As we travel a winding road,
“My life hasn’t been
A bed of roses.”

We are heading toward
The Crucifixion,
And speaking in this vein,
We continue on.

~Alice Schultze


Good Friday 2021

She crawled to the mountain ledge
And dropped down into

Did you see?

I heard the words that stuck in
Her soul like thorns
And sealed her eyes closed.

You heard them too,
Though perhaps you didn’t know,
And perhaps, up to that
Final breath,
That last crush of kindness,
Neither did she.

~Alice Schultze