Between an end and beginning
I’m sure he lies there resting
coiled tight within the rock.
It is Saturday, when one week dies
another comes to life.
I’m sure he lies there thinking
recounting Friday’s traumatic trial.
It is a reflective time of grace,
mercy and a time of sacrifice.
I’m sure he lies there listening
as authorities rejoice his brutal failure.
Outside the law stands firm
expecting no miracles.
I’m sure he lies there waiting,
anticipating Sunday’s redemptive sunrise.