At my first cry, my life began in death--
My own: for I, as all are, lost in sin,
I moved toward my grave with every breath
And every second let the shadows in.
Thus shackled to my nature, I bemoan
My wounds and tear my binds to no avail.
If I must walk toward darkness on my own
What is this gentle light beyond the veil?
My first breath welcomed death, but this a cry
To start again, begotten in the court
So near the holy place--my hope, descry
The way of life for we who, fallen short
Must breathe, alive, the resurrected Lord
Reborn in him, renewed, to hope restored.
postscript
For the Resurrection Sunday contest at the Deviant Mission. My favorite time of year--the Lenten season up to Easter. 1 Peter speaks of Living Hope (ironically also the name of the sermon series at my church) for those in Christ--dead in our sins, but reborn through the power of Christ's death and resurrection. Praise God. Traditional Shakespearean sonnet.