Monday, April 13, 2015

Poem: Resurrection - Twelve of 30 NaPoWriMo

Heat of a thousand suns
Seared through that body, wracked
With pain, holes ripped at wrists and feet
Flesh flayed and final spearhead entry wound
Cleansed by blood and water, the only
Compassionate moment, a gift rarely given
For those who hung, row upon row,
Cross next to bloody cross, daring those
Who challenged Pax Romana
Underground against that deadly peace
Now stood this Man, dead three days, and
Looking new, bright illumination, Mysterious
Stranger, walking now with His friends, unrecognized
Until. Until He spoke a word, turned a phrase,
Revealed Himself only to disappear and reappear
In the center of a locked room among his brothers
Teaching them secrets they had not understood
Secrets we cannot understand
Singularity standing on the edge
Event Horizon, returned from the black hole
Of death, Supernova, Superstar
Rip in the fabric of Time

Rising bread
Living water`
New wineskin

Old story
New song

Roses blossom
Crows rise in flight
Sparrows congregate
Lilies of the field adorned

Lay down the Blade
Lift the Chalice
The bread, still hot from
The heat of a thousand suns
Feeds millions

May you never hunger
May you never thirst

(c) 12 April 2015

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