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.