Written May of 2004 by Michael J. Hayes.
Before, I had lain cold, and in dead blood;
All my surrounding was entirely, utterly dead.
Yet, though my soul was dead—I perceived…a light…
My heart and veins, though slowly, began to beat…
I began to sense a new reality.
Shortly after that, I stood up.
Those who'd gathered 'round me wonder;
Convinced that I'd raised myself from the dead...
By my own wish, my own action, or my own power.
Yet I stated: "NO!"
"I did not participate in this! I am merely the clay;
Re-created by another!"
They were confused...
"What do you see around you?" I inquired.
"A dead forest," came their reply.
To that I responded: "Once was I like that forest;
But no more, for I live!
Not by my hand, but by the hand of the Jesus who was;
Beaten, crucified, and resurrected; am I no longer like that forest!
It is therefore only in him; that I stand, speak, and live!!!"
I fell to my knees, thankful.
But they still did not understand.
© 2004 Tri-Sola Poetry. Reprinted with permission.
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