Every sixteen hours,
all of humanity
lies down
and rehearses dying.
Bodies wrapped in cloths,
eyes shut tight,
control relinquished
-come what may.
The sun arrives.
Yawn,
stretch,
lots of eye-rubbing
like babies
-like new people.
It’s an advertisement
a preview
a trailer.
A bite of cookie dough
-a taste, just a taste-
beckoning the sleeper
back
for more.
Because everyday
I roll out of my covers
pad downstairs
let the dog out
flip on the coffee and plop down in the
sunshine Ikea wingback.
The Word in my hands
a song in my soul
I take off my slippers because
I remember:
We are on holy ground.
You meet me here
in this bright yellow chair
and Heaven meets Earth
day after day.
Morning after morning.
And You and I rehearse resurrection.
A note from the author:
The metaphor of sleeping and waking mirroring death and resurrection is not original to this author. She wishes she could give credit to the author of the idea, but cannot recall where she heard of the idea. Even still, she is thankful to have the opportunity to include such a great metaphor in her poetry.