Sunrise

The sun rose this morning

as I first blinked the

silent light from my eyes,

and I thought of You, and how

this had to be like the day

You called to Mary,

“Why weepest thou?”

How these had to be the rays

of light that filled

her broken heart, a rush

of warmth rising in her soul

as she rose to meet Your eyes

of perfect love. “Tell me

where thou hast laid him.”

And You spoke her name

beneath the eastern sky,

“Mary.”

And she knew You,

her Master, her Light.

And now I lay beneath

that sky, sustained by

the same light, and I want

to call to You, my Master,

for this had to be the

sun that shone the day

she knew You had risen.