Poetry: Every Day is Good Friday by Michael Hanson

I watch as your body is pierced over and over.
You watch as I pierce your body over and over,
And over.
You manage your pain,
As best you can,
So others won’t know it,
But sometimes it’s overwhelming.
My son, my son,
why have I forsaken you?

Every day is Good Friday,
With its darkness and pain,
And every day we anticipate
The promised Sunday
When your body will be whole

This, my son,
I promise,
Your sacrifice, your blood,
Your pain,
Will have purpose.
Forty days, or years,
Or decades,
We do not know the hour,
but soon…

For now we wait,
And learn.
Because of your suffering we question,
We doubt.
Through your suffering we know
Struggle, we grow empathy.
Through your suffering we know


Michael profile picMichael Hanson is the parent of a 5-year-old son with Type 1 Diabetes who was diagnosed at 17 months and a 2-year-old daughter. He has Master’s degrees in both English and Library Science and currently works at a public library in the Pacific Northwest. Follow Michael on Twitter: @michaelhanson22