This should have gone out Friday. It’s a somber reflection for the Monday after Easter, but it came too late for me to post on Friday. Take it as looking back on the other side, having gone through the darkest day, looking at the night from the light of the morning.

The sun bowed its head and the earth forsook
The earth trembled and refused to look.
The whole of creation rejected that hill
Where their creator hung anguished and still.

A cry from heaven broke the firmament
As their king and creator hung torn and rent.
His voice lifted up it’s final call
As he bowed his head and died for all.

The hosts of heaven could not break the holy chain
As evil’s laughter pealed and rang.
But death stood quiet on that hill
And waited, patient, as a hand tore the veil.

Unseen by all, death bowed his head
And his master’s spirit onward led.
Down to his realm of empty souls
Where Life Himself came to take them home.

Death Bowed His Head copyright © Heather Strickler 2025 all rights reserved.