Saint Joseph’s :: Album :: Poetry

Blue spring flowers on the forest floor.

Where Did You Go To Lazarus?

My sisters are weeping, and so am I
Or would if these dead eyes
Did not begrudge the tears.
My sisters have waited, and so have I,
So sure our friend would never
Forsake us at the end.
I feel their hands on my hands,
I see their desolation,
I cannot speak to comfort.
Tired I am of waiting; let me go
And, if I cannot see him, let my memory
Forget we ever met, that he loved me
So little in return.

Where shall you go to, Lazarus?
Heaven’s gates are closed
To sinful Man. The dead await
The castellan, as you once did.
You are not welcome here
Among the helpless hordes
In Hades’ halfway house.
Are you afraid? This death
Was not what you expected,
An absence of belonging.
Pass by, and seek your way
Back into the sunlight, a lonely road
That none walked before. Lonelier still
To walk amongst the living, yet unknown,
An insubstantial essence.
What are you seeking? Feet move onward
Guided to some goal, some meeting place;
But now your steps are shadowed
And two keep pace together, returning
To Bethany and a mystery beginning.

Where did you go to, Lazarus?
We watched you die, we laid you out,
We railed at him for failing us,
We did not understand.

I did not know his purpose, yet I followed.
I saw a man emerge from out a tomb.
My brother sent me forth to greet my brother
And we embraced and lived again in him.

Eleanor Dent

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