Lazarus

 LAZARUS

Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” Martha, the sister of Lazarus, said to Him, “Lord, by this time there will be a stench, for he has been dead four days.

I am here and I am me 

and, I was always me. 

Now though, 

I am learning to un-learn 

the rough ruts I carved into my mind 

when I carved him out of pain and fear. 

When he first found me 

I could only be 

in the form of thought and longing 

but, 

I was me, 

and he was me 

finding myself, and now

I am myself, and he is not dead, but we 

because he was always me. 

The love, the life, the pain we lived; 

my loves, my life, and my pain. 

And when I was him, 

and when I was only just remembering to be me, 

and when I was only just learning how to not be him 

but to have been him, 

I told him to tell me that if I just let him 

suffocate me a little longer, 

then the air would not burn so sharp 

nor the light pierce so bright

as I emerged, 

but now I am a little stronger, 

and now I cannot tell myself that this coat is my skin, 

and now I want the air to burn if it means that I get to feel the light. 

I want to breathe,

and I am breathing, 

and maybe now 

these are shallow breaths

but, 

the dead skin of this mask is sloughing off,

and every day it gets harder to plaster it back on to my face 

and to use his visage to smile at the world. 

When Lazarus heard the call to wake and to come out 

he did not take a shower, or change his clothes before he sought the sun, 

and I do not want to wait in this tomb until the stink wears off 

and Martha brings me a clean set of clothes.