Zombie (of sorts)

A creature of Light I desired to be,

past the barren flesh,

I wanted to see

So I followed life,

as zombies, we do.

I followed to church,

a place I once knew.

I sat in the crowd,

of hearts I couldn’t touch -

for sanctified hearts, I’ve found,

we’re never man’s to clutch

Now I feel like a reverse zombie, so to speak -

I’ve been raised to new life,

my heart,

it has this sanctified new beat

Fresh breath in my lungs,

and new songs of praise being sung.

Grave clothes are shed,

and with them,

haunting feelings of dread

I no longer seek to consume minds,

nor barren flesh

that withers with time

I pray now to know only hearts -

Sacred places of communion,

and transformational (re)starts