SUNDAY MORNING
 
I gave My life
My breath removed in a moment of time
I heard her cry
her strong lament for deliverance
But what can I do?
I am just a man
But a man, Holy-birthed
Son of God, son of man
slayer of death, itself
In one moment of time
death appeared to conquer
taken down from the wooden cross
limp, without strength, lifeless
laid in a tomb
but Sunday Morning came
Hope was birthed
Life surged, pulsed, burst through Me
For you see,
I loved . . .
I loved . . . unto death
but I also loved . . . unto LIFE

But, will she love Me?