Christmas Card

and then.....

Dawn,
Sunday.
The tomb disclosed,
in brightest day,
void,
the boundary
of yesterday
breached.
Morning,
Sunday.
The greetings of angels,
the fear of mystery,
the meeting of a man
who is not a man.
Evening,
Sunday.
More fear
and another greeting
and the breath
of eternity
enters frightened souls.

Grace calls

Grace calls my name
a name scratched in nail upon His hand;
my life - a page in a holy book.
A path in a mist
to a light shrouded in mystery
which faith reveals
but sight cannot fathom.
Grace calls my name
in a voice I hear but cannot see
yet its touch
is holy reality.