This is the space between all life and death,
Between his final cry and second-first breath;
The stillness between singing and applause,
Between the reign of love and rule of laws.
The space before the church door is unlocked,
Before the stone is rolled, the grave is rocked.
The stretching shadow’s still beneath the cross,
The stretch of time when all gain still seems loss.
This emptiness is a fullness we forsake,
A holy silence we are ever swift to break.
Our mourning fails to endure through the night
As our joy rises with a day too early’s light.
We rush to tomorrow’s tomb as we forget
That we, too, live in the already but not yet.
Ryanne Molinari 
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