Healing from trauma has been like jesus
going into the depths and getting the keys of heaven.
There have been many three days of traversing
before the stone was rolled away.
My sorrows, bodily reactions, fears and numbness,
deep, deep loathing had to be swathed and wrapped with linen and spices,
packing the side wound,
tears baptizing the body.
I have felt dead many times.
I have felt pierced and displayed and crucified.
I have felt forsaken.
When a pattern changed,
when a trauma, built from lines and lines of lineage was released,
the sky did darken,
the earth did shake,
I did lay a new path that those before and behind me would call upon this work
and be saved.
Tell the nations.
I have gone forward with fear and joy,
worship and doubt, the ultimate mixture of divinity, faith, and humanity.
I clothe myself in white now,
write in the dirt, spit on my own eyes,
I’ve been a lamb that has been slain and I have sat on a throne.
You can feel the holes in my hands because the nails were real,
the world will still turn,
whether I walk upon it or not,
either way, my resurrection is changing cells,
my legacy will alter blood and bone and marrow,
sticky goo of living.
Don’t weep for me for I have risen.