by Geoff Knowlton

Holy Saturday, my favorite day
Because it’s like so many other days.
Or so it would seem.
 
Holy Saturday waits
Like a patch of dirt in the lawn
Nothing happening
But shoots then buds appear
Followed by tomatoes, squash and beans.

Holy Saturday appears
Dead like thorny sticks 
Waving in cold breeze
But soon enough rose blooms appear.
 
Holy Saturday looks dull.
It’s the spring in a can
Just boring coils of grey metal
Doing nothing, worthless scrap
But waiting
For the lid to come off.
 
Hope lost
And was buried.
Nothing to do but go home
And put one heavy foot in front of the other
Because it’s Holy Saturday
And nothing’s happening.
 
But then Mary shows up
With funeral spices
And the gardener whispers her name
And she gets the surprise of her life.
The blessed surprise for all our lives.
It’s Holy Saturday
Like so many days
Nothing is happening
But the joy Is in
 
How
 
Wrong
 
We are.

Geoff Knowlton is a psychotherapist specializing in counseling children in foster care. His poetry has been published in various places, including Friends Journal, the journal for Quakers. He has training in psychology and Christian theology and often writes about his experiences with his clients and other places as he reflects on the deeper truths revealed through them. Mr. Knowlton lives in Central Massachusetts.