WAKE

From the soil, they rose, in the footsteps of the King.

The fruit hung low, trees ripe, birds sing.

Flesh, emboldened, and pure in form.

The days before the veil need torn.

TOIL

The sea, it spread, the rocks were thrown.

A harp, the wars, an exile bemoaned.

He’ll come one day, they cried out below.

The vines sat ripe, seeds to be sown.

REST

For a moment, they sit, they stare in awe.

The walls knocked down, so too, the law.

A dove flies near, with watchful eyes.

Sins of the world, gone with a sigh.

KNEEL

Hands held, head down, a state of prayer.

It makes no sense — not just, nor fair.

That He shall die, so I shall live.

On bended knees, my life I give.

-David Ray