Resurrection.

The stars come out of their graves for You.

(I do too.)

Their white hot fire and my heart suffuse.

(It's all for You.)

Hot coals fire

where the diamonds blush,

treasures come up from

even in the rough.

A bloom in the ash

and a tombstone cracks;

a grave yawns wide for the men on their backs.

All that death could once control

falls away from my vibrating soul.

Dead at best, You knew she slept.

With nothing left, You called her back.

Awake,

awake,

awake into the Light.

When Heaven battles,

when old bones rise,

when Mercy walks among us

with fire in His eyes--

as the Earth has groaned

so the Earth will sigh,

as its old graves tremble

and its dry wells cry--

He'll walk between graves with the walking dead

with Lazarus hearts that got up when He said. . .

Awake,

awake,

awake into the Light.

His feet will walk on Earth again

as I hear her say,

"I remember Him.

It's been so long

since You've been gone.

I remember way back when;

I remember Him."

Oh, grave where is your sting?

Oh, death where is your victory?

Awake,

awake,

awake into the Light.

February 2011