I don’t intend it to happen.
It just sneaks up on me
And before I know it
There’s been a kind of death,
Part of me wrapped up in a shroud
And buried in a tomb
While the rest of me stands by
Wondering why the light has gone out.
Then you, my Friend, all loving,
Seek me out and knock
At the edge of my heart, calling me forth.
I argue that I can’t.
Death is death and I’m too far gone
For story book miracles.
But you keep on calling,
“Come forth! Come forth!”

And the darkness is pierced
by a shaft of light
As the stone begins to move.

My Friend,
I don’t know how you do it
But the tomb has become
As bright as day, as bright as love,
And life has returned.

Look at me!
I’m running out,
Dropping bandages all over the place.

The words of Joy Cowley.