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  • Writer's pictureMrsMollyWilcox



I imagine feet

walking on holy ground

with followers uncertain

of where they’re being led.

When the journey is

in progress and the trail

is being forged

trust isn’t in a destination

it’s in feet that go before.

Stillness surrounds

the chill and shiver shakes

the crowd, here,

lies a man struck by disaster,

you say take the stone away.

In a moment, there’s a miracle.

Who is this man,

who calls dead men

out of the grave?

Your actions I trust fully,

I vow to call you Lord, your

holy footsteps I will sink in

eager and unafraid.

But in my still, quiet comfort,

will I let buried feet

leave the grave

when you say,

come forth?


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