The Second Day

The second day

was a day when you were gone.
No gospels written then
The certainty of victory concealed
in mystery.

The second day

smelt of bloodshed
and dirty linen used to wash thy torn pure form
lay soaking in a bowl.

The second day

we were bereft and weeping.
No comforter then.
I turned to a friend for a hug and a smile
but saw only pain.

The second day

we waited….

and you loved us too much
to leave us there
in the bleak darkness
hopeless and lost
for more than a day.

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