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Simon's Soliloquy

by Verna Cole Mitchell  
2/11/2011 / Poetry

In borrowed tomb, they laid Him,
My Master, yesterday.
My hope has died with Jesus' death,
My Light of joy, extinguished.
The bleakness of this twilight hour
Brings darkness to my soul.

No one but He had understood
My brash impulsiveness
Nor loved me quite so dearly.
What wretched man denied Him in
His hour of sorest need?
'Twas IOh, God, forgive me.

My hope has died with Jesus' death,
My Light of joy, extinguished.
I'd glanced just once at Mary near the cross,
Her shoulders bent with pain,
As if the sword that pierced His side
Had pierced her flesh as well.

So many blessed hours now, I hold in memory.
While sitting at His feet to hear Him speak,
I learned the truths He wanted all to know.
I see the happy faces still
Of lame He made to walk and blind He made to see
And families of loved ones He had healed.

I treasure moments I recall,
Like when I walked on water.
I would not have been sinking,
Had I kept my eyes on Him.
And once the very Son of God
Did kneel and wash my feet.

He changed my name to Peter, meaning rock;
He said that He would build His church on me.
I've wondered what He meant when He said that.
Nor did I understand His words to Jews,
That if the temple were to be torn down,
In three days, He'd restore it once again.

I'll never comprehend the love
He showed to everyone,
To lonely ones, the sad, and sinners all,
To Judas who betrayed Him, or to Jews,
Who had Him beaten cruelly
And later put to death upon the cross.

Where can we go from here?
Our Teacher, Master, Lord
Has gone from us for good,
And now we have no one whom we can follow.
My hope has died with Jesus' death,
My Light of joy, extinguished.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In twenty-four short hours,
My world has turned around.
The darkness of the twilight hour
Cannot invade my soul.
All glory be to our great God;
His Son is resurrected.

When first I heard He'd risen,
I could not believe it true;
I ran to see the tomb where He had lain.
When He appeared among us,
Where we'd hidden from the Jews,
I could have leaped and shouted out for joy.

He showed us where His wounds had been
And helped us understand His prophecies.
He breathed on us His living Holy Spirit,
Then sent us out to share life in His name.
My hope has been revived with His return;
My Light of joy's alive forevermore.

Verna Cole Mitchell is a wife, mother, grandmother, and retired teacher, who is so grateful to God for all his blessings. Her desire is to honor God with her life and with her words.

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