Oh Death Where Is Thy Sting

Written by: Woodrow Lucas

Born into tragic reckoning,
We understand that all the bliss we have is but a moment in Creation,
Elation and tragedy come to nothing beneath the last breath our body takes,
And death opens wide to swallow us into that great mystery.
Born into tragic reckoning,
We try and create a memory that lives beyond our countenance,
But that memory is hollow compared to the touch of loved ones,
We grow and live knowing that someday we will lose our parents and friends to that dark dominion,
And yet does death still sting as before?
Born into tragic reckoning,
A man lived in sorrow, hoping and reaching for a better tomorrow,
Born into poverty and oppression,
A man refused to accept the limitations of his age and grew to become like no manner of man that has ever existed.
Born into tragic reckoning, a man grabbed the hand of God and demanded life,
And when it was his time to die he embraced the abyss,
Three days later he rose from death’s clutches and said, “I am that I am.”
The great dream of tomorrow beyond the sting of loss is real and it is rather the sensation that things end which is mistaken.
For there was and is a man, who will ensure that tragedies are transformed into triumphant reconciliation.
For there was and is a man, who guarantees that even in the height of despair there really is no end and all mysteries give way to beginnings of blessing.
Oh Death, because of a man who was, who is, and who will be where is your sting?
Or sorrow where is your victory?
For death can rule no soul.
So into the great beyond, go with courage dear sister, go with courage.