By Hazel Holland
The temple stands in fractured silence,
Its curtain parted, rent in two
As pious people pay their homage,
They worship, but they know not who.
Yesterday’s gone down in history
As time that we shall not forget.
Today our feet drag slow and heavy,
Our minds can’t comprehend it yet.
The sky is gray—the sun’s not shining.
It seems the birds refuse to sing.
The morning dew bathes earth in tears.
His death is such an awful thing!
We dare not think about tomorrow
Or what the future holds in store.
Today the hours drag by in anguish.
We thought we knew—now we’re not sure.
He’s dead and gone from us, forever
Locked within those walls of stone…
We feel we died when He was taken
And yet we live, confused, alone.
(Go here to see poem with Temple background).
______________________
I wrote this poem for an Easter pageant that was put on at a Seventh-day Adventist church twenty four years ago. The Saturday morning service was presented from the viewpoint of the disciples who didn't know that Jesus was going to rise from the dead the next day! It was relatively easy for me to get in touch with the disciples loss, because I was was going through the death of my own relationship--my marriage that begun to crumble as a result of my husband's rage over becoming a paraplegic...
The temple stands in fractured silence,
Its curtain parted, rent in two
As pious people pay their homage,
They worship, but they know not who.
Yesterday’s gone down in history
As time that we shall not forget.
Today our feet drag slow and heavy,
Our minds can’t comprehend it yet.
The sky is gray—the sun’s not shining.
It seems the birds refuse to sing.
The morning dew bathes earth in tears.
His death is such an awful thing!
We dare not think about tomorrow
Or what the future holds in store.
Today the hours drag by in anguish.
We thought we knew—now we’re not sure.
He’s dead and gone from us, forever
Locked within those walls of stone…
We feel we died when He was taken
And yet we live, confused, alone.
(Go here to see poem with Temple background).
______________________
I wrote this poem for an Easter pageant that was put on at a Seventh-day Adventist church twenty four years ago. The Saturday morning service was presented from the viewpoint of the disciples who didn't know that Jesus was going to rise from the dead the next day! It was relatively easy for me to get in touch with the disciples loss, because I was was going through the death of my own relationship--my marriage that begun to crumble as a result of my husband's rage over becoming a paraplegic...
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