holy week haiku


The stones will cry out,

“He is coming, He is here!”

Palm branches salute.


This king washes feet,

“Break my body, drink this cup.”

Heart of stone betrays.


He’s crowned, whipped, bleeding;

“My God, have you forsaken?”

Dies on stony hill.


Sunrise in garden;

“Tell me, Sir, where you laid him.”

Stone tomb cannot hold.