The Waters

The waters that lay still before me

Are threatening all that I once knew.

The appearance of tranquility

Invites me to enter in the pool,

Yet I know the storm that will rage when

I submit my corpse to plunge its depths.

A corpse, indeed, a corpse I will be

For these waters call me to a death.

But could there be a resurrection?

For me the waters are but a pool,

But for Him t’was a flowing river,

Whose currents lead to a sea called Death.

This Man whose joy it was to perish

Willing to live for a higher cause

Became obedient to this death

Even the death of these mighty waters.

He said his death would bring life to men,

But could He have a resurrection?

The waters appear to have a song

And its music sooths my broken soul.

Their surface seems to break out in dance

In harmony with eternity.

They stand for all that is beautiful

Against all that would threaten true life.

Who could resist their strong attraction?

Who would despise their invitation?

Surely they preach a resurrection.

Yet I know the sacrifice it takes

To be drenched in its peaceful fury.

For I know my foot should not enter

Unless I submerge my head as well.

And if my nose should there go under,

No doubt its last breath will have been drawn

Forever after my breath will come

From a Wind that can not be measured.

Yet this Wind brings a resurrection.

I can see the need I have for death,

For life in bondage is not real life.

My wayward nature can’t be mended,

My broken spirit can not be fixed.

Yes death, and death alone, is my cure

The grave is my road to liberty.

I can be buried in these waters

My soul drowned in its unyielding waves

With a hope for a resurrection.

There are things, to be sure, I will miss

From my life of death that I will flee.

The waters will take my sovereignty

They will take away all of my rights.

Yet in my new chains is true freedom

And those regrets will be but shadows

For no one who swims and then looks back,

Is worthy of the death of the pool,

Is worthy of the resurrection.

With decision made, I enter in,

This fountain full of wrathful pardon.

The elements burn my broken skin

And instructs me that the pain is real.

For sin is not easily repaired,

And death necessitates agony.

Yet I clench my fists against my pride

And prepare my corpse for sacrifice.

While longing for my resurrection.

Death, then burial, then three days passed

In a brief moment of submersion

My lungs received a new kind of air

From the Wind that blows where it wishes

And my voice which knew only to curse

Found the song for which it had been made.

For these waters bound me to the man

Whose joy it was to suffer and die,

And I share in His resurrection.