from the dead

Two days under the sun, and I thought
the air was beginning to smell like bee spit
And the clouds were somehow
Lactating

I feel so raw, I thought under the sun,
so flawed. those were
My fishermen days

When men hung Jesus on a wooden frame
On a whitewashed wall
Whose gaze is fixed on a corner, eyes
Bleary

Oily Saint Mary, Moses!
Jerichos, echoes, my voice in a tomb.
How fleeting is life
How hungry the womb, I am
Numb, numb, numb.

One day, the Son of God appeared
His hair is white as wool, eyes of
Fire

And called out my name.

Today

Let Today be
Where I am, where I stand
In relation to eternity

Life is really One
day long
From wake to sleep
To right the wrong
From weak to strong, my soul

To keep
To hear Your Voice
And never let our hearts to harden
Or forget as in the rebellion

For we have yet
To rise and set, the call
For One day
You called Today.