Lord, if you had been here–
It’s an accusation, an act
Of faith, censure and belief in one
Greeting of a grieving heart, wracked,
Mary’s, Martha’s, and mine, undone.
Lord, why were you not near?
I, too, consider you my friend,
Reproach your absence, kneel, and weep.
This, this, you surely cannot mend,
Hope now wrapped in a winding sheet,
And faith diminished on a bier.
Keep closed the tomb of the love I
Buried. I fear the stench of death.
Too far gone for you, dear Rabbi.
No. The love we loved, Take a breath.
Resurrections still happen here.
Warm breast and ah! bright wings brood near.
In joy I greet my risen love;
In joy I praise the mighty dove!