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My Own Testament
“I am the resurrection, and the life:
He that believeth in me,
Though he were dead,
Yet shall he live.”
I know the fragile expressions,
the withered sighs, the gasping of breath.
I hear the humble prayer, the song,
the whispering of words long remembered
from the carefree days of child.
“In the Lord, put your trust.”
I know the stricken face of my father,
placing the phone down,
the final strike of the sound ring against the receiver.
I see him mouth the words,
“Grandpa has gone.”
Is there trust in the Lord
that Ye-Ye is happy?
“And whosoever was not found written in the book of life
was cast into the lake of fire.”
I know the furrowed face of her,
warning the weary old man that he has one chance,
one chance to ascend to Heaven,
one chance, like Bellerophon, to scale Olympus
and graze the breaths of the Gods.
One chance to frailly shuffle to Bible Study.
“The Lord gave and The Lord has taken away;
May the name of The Lord be praised.”
I know the sunny August morning,
the RIP Stephen,
the subsequent messages that followed.
I felt the heartbreak of the family,
my mother’s broken stories of the parents.
I did not know this child,
yet I knew the warm tears running down my face
Alone at night.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation –
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is my stronghold of my life –
Of whom shall I be afraid?”
I know that I am afraid of the unknown,
the last few seconds as I drift off to sleep.
I read the peaceful faces of the residents
connecting with their God
hands clasped together in an eternal bond.
“And you will know the truth,
and the truth will make you free.”
I know, like the caged bird had sung,
that I desire the truth, the freedom,
the answer to my question.