Did you feel trapped in your tomb,
wrapped up in my insolence?
Dead to sin, dead to me,
just plain dead.
You surely dreaded God’s abandonment,
and I haven’t been there for you, either.
I love you, but am so inconsistent
in showing what I say.
Why do you still believe in me?
Still stay when I lie,
and lie down in my own tomb,
avoiding your offer
to leap at Easter
into dazzling light and life?
You said I can’t go ...
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