A Trip To December 7th
I was not there that Sunday morning
When crystal skies sparkled with countless color
When patches of clouds were smothered in thick ashes
I was not there as you slept in your racks
Or as you prepared yourself for a day of worship
Unaware God was already preparing a place for you
I walked along the planks of your battlegrounds
I witnessed time and knew when your hourglass ceased to exist
I felt the silence of death as I stood above your watery grave
I was not there but you reminded me
I heard your cries through the steel coffin
A single drop of oil rose from your waters
And I shall never forget.