And So We Wait

And so we wait.
The cross stands empty.
Execution completed.
Disciples despondent and despairing.
The status quo restored.
The dangerous preacher silenced;
in a year or two they believe he’ll just be another memory – a historical curiosity.  
Job done.  Unpleasant, I’ll grant you, but necessary.
It’s better that one man dies for the sake of the people after all.
Give it a day or so and things will settle back down.

And so we cry.
We mourn dreams stolen by violence.
We grieve lives marred by torture and terror,
We ache for lives limited by oppression and brutality,
for mothers left without children; for what could have been.
We’re angered by injustice – then and now – 
trumped up charges, hurried trials, lying witnesses;
the powers that be ensuring they remain safe.  
Our tears run dry and our emptiness seems overwhelming,
but we know this isn’t the end of the story.

And so we hope.
We hope for better days, 
for justice, for renewal, for victims to be believed,
for torturers and terrorists to face a reckoning,
for mothers’ tears to be dried, 
and for children to run free.
We hope for things to change,
for the poor to find their voice, the hungry to be fed,
and for the new, extraordinary, life of resurrection,
to change the world.   

Andy Braunston