A Paschal Ditty
A very short poem from Holy Week 2020
Hidden much too well in last year’s lawn, a cracking plastic shell well trod-upon, a cavity bereaved by slow decay of anything so sweet— there it lay: a pastel emptiness, not egg nor earth nor viable unless by second birth.
Pascha is triumphant—even in the COVID year when the insanity managed to cheat many by the fear of Death out of celebrating Christ’s victory over it. I jotted down a few ditties in that year (of which this is probably the best). It is not much, but perhaps amidst the glut of content you are likely to receive on the commemoration of Holy Friday, this offering might be welcomed for its brevity. Regardless, may both the Lamentations and Celebration ahead prove transformative and joyful.
Kyrie Eleison.
Minor point but I think it's an important one:
"of anything so sweet—
there it lay:"
Really great use of a rest here, in terms of (1) placement within the poem—you let the rhythm establish itself first and then provided a slight reprieve to keep it fresh; and (2) its use draws emphasis to "there it lay," which appropriately emphasizes the importance of the line. It's almost as if we're coming across it ourselves, right in that moment along with the writer.
It's a small thing but it's really well-done; reminds me of Robert Leckie's use of "Listen" in his poem, "Helmet for my Pillow." Same kind of deliberate use.
I appreciate this not just for its brevity (a sterling trait, in any case), but for the simplicity of the experience. There is no easter egg hunt for allusions here, which one finds with so much "devotional" poetry.