Easter’s Middle

It’s a tiny island called Saturday.
Nestled uncomfortably close to its neighbor, Horror.
It’s quiet here. Almost silent.

Trust moved in yesterday. Forced relocation.
Anxious, fragile, and a little scared. Strike that. Really scared
The lights are off. These curtains are still closed. But someone’s home.
Nervously gripping a hope frayed at the edges.
Foolishly? Maybe. But that’s what you do when that’s all that’s left. Right?
Waiting.

And in the waiting, some lessons learned nowhere else.

Silence and absence aren’t necessarily related.
A few days from now things can look very, very different.
Saturday doesn’t last forever.

So when night comes in a few hours, try to sleep.
Though you can’t yet see it, believe that tomorrow is coming.

And then get up on Sunday.
You won’t be the only one.