Here is an old poem of mine for Good Friday. Enjoy–and don’t forget to read the story I posted yesterday, about what would happen to the Inklings if the Germans won WWII!
Speculation on the Crucifixion
How, when He had breathed tetelestai
and died forsaken, sinking into Hell—
the Three Who must eternally be One
somehow undone, and all created selves
down to their cells in fear of separation,
even death from life-beyond-death split
(witness these somnambulic saints in shrouds)—
did not creation fly to blasted bits?
Somehow the Three-in-One encompass Time
inside His timelessness, and thus that rift—
if rift it was, which Christ in God-forsaken
that mobiüs strip
that never split Them, split eternally,
is microcosm for the Triune Mystery.