Adrian Plass

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    What of Me?
    Mark 10:32-42

    By Adrian Plass

    He will rise again
    But what of me?
    What of me?
    Though death flaps down to take me like a huge black bird
    Casting ragged shadows over lilies of the valley
    Over milky moonlit seas
    Sunrise glory
    Sunset flame
    Peach and pearl in Galilean skies
    The coolness of a woman’s hand 
    Children’s eyes 
    The rasp of rough-grained wood against the skin
    Light in the gaze of men, who, by a miracle of faith, have seen 
    Heard, walked, talked 
    Discovered that their pitted skin is whole and clean
    Sabbath walks, meandering through rolling fields of wheat 
    The chattering and chuckling of my friends
    Their sweet naivety 
    A scent of cooking fish
    The call to eat
    Old stories by the fire
    Good wine
    A kiss
    Love and wisdom in my mother’s smile
    The tears of those who loved me much
    Because I gently, fiercely took away their sin 
    And will I rise again? 
    Indeed, the son of man must rise and live once more
    But what of me?
    What of me?