Holy Saturday

I paid the bills.
He descended into hell.
I remembered that tax is due
in weeks, and more than that
will be required of me, eventually.
He descended into hell.
The lawnmower hummed,
cutting down the green shoots
tending heavenward.
He descended into hell.
A robin foraged, unaware, her
life one long, innate obedience.
He descended into hell.
We struggled, breathless,
up hills, perplexed at our
weariness.
He descended into hell.
I made breakfast, put away dishes,
opened a window, rearranged
my desk, made plans for the day.
He descended into hell.
I daydreamed, then watched a square of
sunlight advance across my desk.
He descended into hell.
I prayed come, Lord Jesus.
He descended into hell.