Thoughts on Good Friday (a poem)

Sorrow's no more than a season
That cradles a measure of hope in its weight.

For only after tasting tears
Can we savor the triumph of dawn
     The sweetness of surrender
          The sharp perfection of joy.

Only after heads are bowed
With grief-hung burdens too heavy to wear
Can we lift eyes to a new day
     In wonder of shifting, growing, enticing light
          Captivated by the swelling song of morning.

Only after feet are mired
Bogged in the weight of realities
     not always our choice, but always our pain
Can we know the strength of a dream
     Spur hopes locked in chains
          And respond to the voice of the dance.

There may be pain for a time
     but joy comes with the mourning
          If only we wait.