Rise

Words fail you
in all the most important things.
They cannot capture
the depth of your mourning,
or the might of your struggle.
They are helpless to capture
love.

And yet, we still try,
because these things cry to be released,
cry to erupt and fill the universe
with their power.

Like Christ from the tomb,
they cannot be held.
They must, must,
rise.

About this poem. 

This is actually a transcription of words I wrote in my journal earlier this week. Those original words were simply a few prose sentences. But I realized as I looked back over my week, that there was a poem in that paragraph.

The picture is a painting I did sometime last year, called The One True Cross.

Tom .