Resurrection

Upon the stroke of midnight came the sound

Of banshees wailing seeking to be free.

No hint there was of solace to be found,

Just skies of dark and bitterness to see.

With fear of death I climbed the tortuous hill

Not knowing what my destiny should find,

Yet marching ever up and on until

I reached the top where the graveyard was signed.

Through rusted gates I did my passage make

Until I found what figured in my head,

The empty tomb they’d made for your name’s sake

In sacred honour of the words you’d said:

I am the way, the truth, the life, my friend.

Through me, my gift, your days will never end.


© 2017 James Hanna-Magill

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