Life is in
(Dust and blood and birth)
In You Who Are,
The Beginning that begets all beginnings.
Each morning I am
Blinking through the after-death and learning how to walk,
Shaking off graveclothes and
Unbound by binding and
Unfurled by finding.
Light is suspicious, it’s too good to be true,
That once again I’m gifted this.
So I ask:
Who Are You?
Each day I am
Given the answer, but remain
And tragically fallen,
Muddying and bloodying myself and others,
In this undead dying death.
Some days I love a little bit more and hate a little bit less,
But it’s hard to tell from day to day
Whether I’m rising or falling
And just how far away
I am from
Who You Are.
Each night I am
Releasing tensions by deathbed
Into the hands that have always held them,
And waiting in my tomb for the dawn.
I hide from You behind You, O my Shield,
And I yield to
You Who Are.
Wake me, You Who Are,
A resurrection in Resurrection
And a life encased in Life.
Each morning, may I
Remember the reality of rebirth,
May it be
Branded and built into body and soul,
That when I render to You my end,
I will be in Your arms:
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
(Liturgical poetry during Eastertide is inspired by the I AM statements of Christ. Photo by Linnea Wheeler)