There’s a gift of desperation hidden beneath the rubble of destruction. Words that have been left for dead by you, implausible & archaic, those words, like the stone cold body of Lazarus in a tomb, will start to twitch. They’ll catch their breath, lungs rising, falling. Warming.
They will sit up on the page. They’ll then stand & begin to walk & their grave clothes will unravel, folds of fabric dangling like ribbons. And those words you thought old & dead will open their mouths & their tongues will be loosed & they will speak.
“The Lord is my shepherd...
“The Lord is my shepherd...
I shall not want...yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.”
“For God so loved the world...”
“The Word became flesh & dwelt among us.”
“In my Father’s house are many mansions”
“I am the resurrection and the life”
“For God so loved the world...”
“The Word became flesh & dwelt among us.”
“In my Father’s house are many mansions”
“I am the resurrection and the life”
”For I am persuaded that neither death nor life nor angels nor principalities nor powers nor things present nor things to come...shall be able to separate us...”
& you will realize those words were never dead at all. It was you who were dead & they are bringing you back to life.
& you will realize those words were never dead at all. It was you who were dead & they are bringing you back to life.
