Ah Jesus! You do me no favors!
You give me life, but not my life!
You raise me up, what am I to do?
You are borne away with the crowd,
Shouting hosannas as you go,
Like the retreating tide
Pulls pebbles from the shore.
I am like shells on the sand.
Empty, hard husk, standing out for the curious,
But I shall not be picked up by wondering hands.
Those who know me, loved me, know me not now.
I am not the phoenix reborn with youth and soaring strength,
Just Lazarus, already tottering to my second tomb.
Those who loved me, wept with joy with my return.
How soon before the side-long glances reveal
The recollection that those little sins
They know I know were resurrected too?
How soon before the happy embrace
Is replaced by distance carefully maintained
As if the death-stink was still on me?
I see my future years ahead,
The unnatural soul moving alone
Through my unnatural days.
My God, my God,
Why have you forsaken me?
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Lazarus by Charles Darnell )
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