"The Devil Has His Hour, God Has His Day,"

We celebrate Easter
in a world still wearing a crown of thorns,
where Good Friday shadows stretch long
across lands groaning with war's echo.
Yet a chant of peace rises—
fragile, fearless—
like lilies pushing through stone.

In Gethsemane’s hush,
He stood beneath the olive trees,
offering not resistance, but surrender:
"This is your hour—
the hour of shadows and swords,
of betrayals cloaked in kisses."
And evil, with hollow triumph,
claimed its fleeting throne.

But long before that hour,
when whispers warned of Herod’s hand,
He did not flee.
“Go tell that fox,” He said,
“Not yet. I have work—
three days of it.”
Days not counted in time,
but in truth.

Two days to unveil
the face of the Father,
to pierce the veils of unbelief.
And the third—
ah, the third—
a mystery crowned in light.

For evil may have its hour,
but God—
God has His day.
And the two are never apart,
for the seed must fall,
must die in darkness,
before it bursts
into dawn.

Let us then wait,
even in the hour,
for the day is near.
The stone will roll.
The light will rise.
And peace will sing again
from an empty tomb. 

Alleluia is our song of Joy! 

Happy Easter everyone 🎉 

#Essy The Poet

Inspired by Bishop Fulton Sheen's Homily on Resurrection.