Deathbed

Now, when the frail and fine-spun

Web of mortality

Gapes and lets slip

What we have loved so long

Out of our lighted present

Into the trackless dark

We turn, blinded by Shekinah

To the Christ in Glory,

Stars beneath His feet

Turn to the Son of Man,

Back from the tomb,

Who built a fire, ate fish,

Spoke with friends, and walked

A dusty road at evening.

Here, in this room, in

This stark and timeless moment,

We hear those footsteps

And

With suddenly lifted hearts

Acknowledge

The irrelevance of death