Poem by Michael Saunders
for Graham Shaw (1944-2021)
Lazarus, hope of my spring self,
held in this black earth,
resting beneath the hollow of a tree.
And then Yeshua finds you,
his tired and tender hands reach you;
and, exhausted, he pulls you
from the dark, he brings you
to the green warmth of this morning,
to the starfield of snowdrops
filling with birdsong.
Michael worships with Friends of the Light – UK, at Woodbrooke.
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