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Dead men

  • Writer: Layman's Lens
    Layman's Lens
  • Oct 7, 2024
  • 1 min read

Twenty-two eyes focus most intently

My appearance they think has come incidentally

For though they've seen all by the heavily lit way

They stumble through fog that obscures the ray.


Nascent transparency soon to find them

Without my lamplight they're all just blind men.


Twenty-two ears attuned to my speech

Yet don't hear the words I've aimed to teach

Shouts of cacophony drown out the whispers

Missed all through the day now they seek in the vespers.


Obstructive wax hasn't quite left them

'Til my fingers expunge they're all just deaf men.


Eleven men's mouths agape at the table

Digesting the story they fear is a fable

Food fills their bellies although they are empty

Complain of their lack yet the baskets hold plenty


Approaching full purge of leaven that's harmed them

Without my fresh bread they're all just starved men.


Eleven hearts pound a surprised rush of blood

The room stilled by the specter and filled by the flood

Yet the muscles within these chests are arrested

New quickening to come to revive what's congested


Soon cast the curse of the foul fiend who bled them

Receive my exhale or you'll remain dead men.


*A reflection on John 20: 19-22

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