Here’s a reblog of a poem from Holy Saturday several years ago. I know most of us are about to begin Pascha services, but this speaks of the spirit in which I want to enter the darkened nave. Joy to you all!
Sir, we have heard of your death.
To die thus is unequivocally brutal.
But when we came to your tomb
the sweet smell astonished us.
You spoke of white, painted tombs
that reek of corruption within.
Your tomb is externally shameful,
the grave of a sinner, a man like any man,
but inside the breath is forever ravishing,
more than lavender and cloves.
What, then, has death become?