Life to Dead Bones

(A Creative Paraphrase of Acts 3:1-10, 16)


From dust made and in dust I sit.
I earn my keep at the Beautiful gate.

Longing to worship,
Longing to embrace.
The worthy gather, while outside I wait.

So.
I sit.
I lay.
I remain.

Is a man still a man when he cannot walk,
Cannot work,
Cannot earn?

Is a beggar worth more than dust of the earth,
A glance of pity,
Alms from a man’s hand?

Day.
By day.
They pass by.

But news.
Of One.
Gives me hope for new life.

He gave sight,
Gave truth,
Gave life.

But.
He died.

No man like that has ever lived,
To give to the blind what no man can give.

If only Jesus could pass by me,
One last time and set me free.

This body is a prison,
A mule that will not budge.

I cry out to men, I cry out to God,
I hold out for hope for the news of One.

He has died, but his students still live.
They preach and pass by,
And by His name forgive.

Better than money,
Better than esteem,
These men speak truth,
And in power they pray.

Now.
For me.

My legs did not know to walk or to run,
Since birth they have been numb.
Yet I walk, I hop…I RUN!

Stronger than ever.
Have I become,
Like the body of Jesus,
Life has come to dead bones.

Indeed this is a Beautiful gate!
Today I have supped with hope on my plate.

A banquet today,
A feast for the King!

Compassion He has,
Power He brings.

Can.
You trust.
In the name.

Of one.
Whose love.
By death is displayed?

The lame will walk,
The blind will see,
Have faith my friend.

Follow me!


© 2007 by Kendra Hinkle