Will Easter ever come this year
amid the illness, isolation, fear?
Will someone push away the stone
that holds us captive ... all alone?

We're mired in Lent,
the need to repent
in the doom and gloom
of an Upper Room.

"Could you not watch with me one brief hour?"
Is this the time of the tempter's power?

"Up from the grave He arose!"
Are we stuck in the throes
of this monstrous scourge?
How will we emerge
into the light of an Easter dawn,
hesitant as a new-born fawn?

There will surely be light beyond this tomb,
and life will once again resume.
Leaving us stronger, wiser still
for braving the night, the cold, the chill.

Sue Trapnell