She meant no disrespect.
There was only pain of loss.
“Where were you?”
she
cried.
“If you had been here…”
His eyes took in everything.
Earth. Sky. Death.
The last was not meant for
for the brother she lost. or anyone else.
He
cried.
She knew who he was.
Had seen and heard the signs.
She had called. He did not come.
Not soon enough.
“Your brother will rise again.”
Death was never meant to be the final
answer.
Its icy fingers would be broken, she knew.
Someday.
Messiah? Of course He is.
Such word carries ramifications beyond
imagination.
He says:
“I am the Resurrection and the Life.”
Who talks like this?
What could it mean?
She had loved Him so.
Her sister had too.
“The Teacher is here.”
Mary came running. She loved being near Him.
Even when grieving.
How wonderful a miracle it would have been
to remove the disease, cure the hurts,
restore health.
He had done so before, for strangers
but
now… dashed hope
It is too much to bear to see the stone
moved.
Leave him to his rest.
Then a voice,
the same voice
that set planets to spinning, suns to burn,
oceans to gather
spoke again:
“Lazarus! Come Out!”