Holy Saturday

The world watched stun,
  mass graves, no one to claim,
no burial rite to be had.

It shocks our senses,
  it only happens in war,
nameless, empty, shallow.

Here we are though,
  here to grieve, we need it,
we need to grieve.

The sheer enormity,
  of one act, reverberates,
echoes through time.

Shed the tears, shut up
  in this upper room for fear,
fear it may be us next.

Now we know, sit,
  where those disciples were,
so long ago, Holy Saturday.