10:24 on a Saturday morning.

Nothing scrawled on the whiteboard.

A blank page I’d rather ignore.

There’s a hole in-between.

Holy Saturday to be precise.

The overcast sky like a tomb,

has me pondering what

happened in this interim.

He cried, “My God, My God,

why have you forsaken me?”

Not long after, no breath was found,

no more red words, only blood

descending, dripping

into the ground and crying out.

The perfect One, perfectly betrayed,

sent by His Father judiciously

to an inferno of the deepest level.

Complete separation to work out

my salvation.