Good Friday Poem


If the universe were unconfined
infinite in time and space,
vastly shrinking my poor mind
whilst expanding at a pace,
(a billion more each blink, each glance)
until all galaxies and light
are dissipated, dark and the weary dance
is stilled. Eternal night!
For this we learned, invented, grew?
For this we yearned and bred and tried?
What worth the knowing what we knew?
For this God made, for this God died?
Such pointless end, I could not bear it
lest You, Incarnate One, will share it!


Poems from the Eighth Decade
Copyright Harold Macdonald 2004
used with permission

Harold Macdonald Poetry

Ash Wednesday
Ashes to Easter