I Am A Thief

A meditation in poem on Good Friday (Matthew 27, Luke 23).

The morning came before sleep,

My eyes held open in hazy fear,

Body tense, and spirit quenched,

Fists holding tightly to nothing,

As if time could be restrained in the palm of my hand.

Death was in the air, and coming for me.

My sentence ringing in my ears,

As the bell of my fate chimed clear within,

The loneliness that filled my heart surpassed only by

The anger I felt for my lot in life.

"You are a thief," came a voice from inside,