For ye shall be as an oak whose leaf fadeth, and as a garden that hath no water. Isaiah 1:30

For one split second everything
holds its breath. The heavens
darken, clouds are torn asunder,

no-body smiles.
It is the end, as they say,
of a very unfortunate episode.

Then the world resumes its busyness.

His friends arrive. They weep,
they are distressed as a woman in childbirth
is distressed. They climb the ladder.

They gather him up in their arms
like blossom, like a harvest of sweet plums.

• from The Way of the Cross, a sculpture/ poem display at the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament, Christchurch, NZ. Poem by Bernadette Hall.