Child of mine, let spirit, body entwine
Pass not through, but rise from dust
Resurrect Lazarus; thy will not mine
Count one and two, Partner of mine
Pray between each hand thrust
Restart his heart; upset his flatline
Compress his chest, straighten spine
Pump blood through limbs; nerves combust
Renew his corpse, exhume from shrine
Come let him be one of ninety-nine
Prepare us, if not; let us trust
Resurrect Lazarus; thy will not mine
Child of mine, let body, spirit entwine
Provoke your soul, you must
Revive, return to life's design
Circulation restores; lungs incline
Pupils constrict; his coughs robust
Child of mine, now spirit, body entwine
Resurrected Lazarus; our wills align
I have tried to write this poem for four years, though I have written several blog posts about my PTSD after. I wonder why my son lived, while other children have died. I have much to be grateful for.
About the Creator
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Comments (1)
I'm so glad your son is okay and grateful he is alive. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️