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From "When I Rise" Dead leaves from the gutter in a pile on the driveway. They are drying in the sunlight. They are waiting to be burned, when their verdant veins turn brittle and the memory of their branches is as withered as your faith in God and hollywood romances. The pendant that she gave you to wear around your neck, now the same color of decay as the debris out in the driveway, left a ring of copper-green on the skin above your sternum, and you tried to wash it off but it's a deeper kind of burden. So curse the fates all you want to. That won't fill that hole inside you. Wake up sleeper. Don't be afraid to be alone. You're not alone. So now you tell yourself at night you'll be wiser when you're older, but now you'd forsake the Kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder, and you try to think of Jesus but the only thing that comes is the way she felt in summer like a teardrop in the sun. Some say He was a wise man or just another martyr who took the easy way around getting out of bed tomorrow. You don't need to understand why He was thinking of you, with every nail, with every wound, why He was crying out with you, but He was. So storm the gates all you want to. That won't fill that hole inside you. Rise up hangman. Take a deep breath. O, how we've missed you. Every time we die and come back to life our roots run deeper, our fruit tastes sweeter. We bear new seeds from times of need most painfully redeemed. You'll see.