harder question is not where you’ve gone,
but why you left us here. The work was done,
of on the cross—why not remain?
It’s for our sake you went, you said, so that
Comforter could be with everyone—
yet isn't there more comfort for us all
be with you today in Paradise?
Why leave us here, born into suffering,
in ignorance, while sin plays out
its tragic farce in world and church alike?
have we gained by Inquisition,
plague and Holocaust? Silent you watch
love and your despair—
despoiled by Abraham’s family's vicious feud.
has taken you—for whom time is nothing—
two more millennia still to prepare?
seems your love will not be satisfied
until you live a life out through us all
the shambling, disunited parody
we call your body. You're gone, yet still here,
we live on in you and you in us—
the one within the one within—within
gap of grace and misery between
your resurrection and its consequence.
have your reasons. Love underwrites them all.
Faith must be worth a great deal if it costs
much to harvest such a small amount.
"Maranatha: come, Lord Jesus, come."
the Ascension Day
© Godfrey Rust, firstname.lastname@example.org. See here for permissions.