Bethany, Palestine
Deep beneath the street we found you.
The passage narrow, the stairway steep.
A space barely big enough to
stand in, let alone lie. The rock
walls thick, the ceiling low. We ducked
and still hit our heads. Tiny Lazarus.
Your story bigger than you and us.
Four feet tall, ten feet under-
ground. I could not help but wonder
how you heard your name, the women weep,
life come knocking at death’s cold door,
you fast trapped and fast asleep.
Christ’s call so loud, such a surprise,
what could you do but wake and rise?
