For Easter 2019, I wrote the following poem reflecting on Christ’s resurrection.
“My Cry I Raise”
Hear my voice as I recount
the things I felt and heard.
You need to know what I will share,
so capture every word.
Friday neared the Sabbath when
they laid him down inside,
the one they called the Nazarene,
the one they crucified.
Wrapped and still his body lay,
hour by hour that passed.
The tomb was carved for those like this,
who finally breathed their last.
Outside the Roman soldiers watched
and guarded all around.
The Sabbath came and went without
a robber to be found.
But before the sun rose on
the quiet place of death,
I felt the ground begin to quake
and heard him take a breath.
I felt the royal cords give way
and heard the soldiers cry,
as some fell faint and others fled
in fear that they would die.
Angel hands pushed me aside
and there I sat again,
beside the tomb so I could let
the women enter in.
The Nazarene said stones would cry
if people did not praise.
I am the stone that rolled away,
and this my cry I raise.