Bombers Take Off From Golgotha, Part 1

“Bombers Take Off From Golgotha”

The last shade of something

stalks the rim of night,

barely touching the tops of things,

sniffing the moonlight for food.

The stars are surrounded by burnt tea

and there is drinking.

Darkness stalks past the ruins,

spreading like damson

toward the crusty edge.

One by one the constellations are unborn

and the Milky Way becomes a beautiful scar.

From the jungle comes the sound of drumming

and the moon is swallowed by clouds

that look like an exploded letter bomb to God.

There are subtle chantings

that seem to be, or not.

People rub their ears

and graze further toward the edge of something.

Some prey is taken

and the night moves on.

—By Ken Woodley

There was nothing else left after the sun set on Good Friday.

The sky had become the roof of a cave.

The sky sometimes does.

Or appears to.

When bombers take off from Golgotha in our own lives we are desperately challenged. Two choices await our decision. We can sit down and give up, believing there is nothing beyond the cave. Or we can stand up, gather our crayons, and color stars and a moon on the cold hard stone, believing the sun will surely rise.

As it will.

In our hearts first.

And then the sky.

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