It's been seven years, I almost forgot-
not this day: but the distance we've climbed.
I couldn't remember my age, because it correlates
to years we've been apart.
I forgot to be apprehensive, this time it was sneaky.
It waited for the first happy holiday wishing
from some idiot to remind me.
It was Good Friday.
When God took your spirit home
and left me dying to know,
how to love him for his sacrifice
when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?
I blasphemy, I know, but you loved him more
in sight of you that graceful place grows
pale in and foreign in mine eye.
Alas, I fail the test, I could not be as strong as you.
We knew it would not wait, but the parting was still to fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
what of my soul will rise with his?"
And sitting easter morning,
holding some idiots well wished basket,
I realised Three days passed.
He took you home and left me lost on Friday morn,
I wailed my loss through Saturdays more,
and Easter morning I felt your last hug, your kiss good bye.
I cursed my self for asking, if my soul would rise with his,
because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am not strong enough to give this pain up
to honor his sacrifice and transcend, I sit still lost and wonder:
I believe and I love, but I don't know how to rise
I don't now how to live again.
Faith crushed I don't think I can trust.
I am the shell of your grace trying once more
to live in the love that failed me, as I failed the gift of his sacrifice.