BY LAWRENCE “MACK” HALL

“Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang” – William Shakespeare

The air is thurified – the incense given

Our Lord upon His birth is fumed at last;

The censer’s chains, clanking like manacles

Offend against the silence at the end of Mass

Supper is concluded; the servants strip

The Table bare of all the Seder service:

Cups, linens, and dishes, leaving in the dark

An Altar bare, prepared for sacrifice

In Gethsemane the flowered air is sweet

But iron-heeled caligae offend the night

Written 6 April 2012, Good Friday