What Lazarus said

There was the sun dappling
on fierce white concrete.
Alternating light and shade
across the space
where the warm cars slept.

And the silence
in that red brick church,
incensed and solemn
and heavy as conscience,
magnified until
the air was dense
with all his fallen invincibility.

Then sharp edged flowers
scythed through the
black and ash morning,
as an organ whispered
immortality fables
among the rows
of burnt-out candles.

Later, I watched
a breeze coax
a wreath of leaves
round grey cobblestones.
And felt resurrected.
Almost whole.