Holy Saturday Sonnet

Your loved ones had to spy to see your tomb
And that you had one at all was rather rare
A deft and bold request by one of whom
You had but recently become aware,
A favor redeemed for your honor’s sake.
He carried you from carrion. He saved
Your body from a fetid crow’s feast stake.
That you might rest in proper peace, he gave
To You a grave he cut out for himself.
The Marys stole behind with Salome,
I see them peering from a distance safe,
Then turning being sure to mark the way.
They had in mind the spices they would fetch
To work their grief into Your cold, cold flesh.