He Called My Name
By La Belle Rouge


I saw him and did not know him, how?
the traditional shawl shaded his face
empty tomb, frantic, broken heart
I thought he was the gardener and
asked him where the body was so I
could take My Lord away from there
and then with one word from his lips
“Mary” I knew it was him…. risen from
the dead, bathed in glorious white light
he called my name, oh blessed voice
so gentle and familiar, and yet it had
the sound of a thousand rivers within
I fell down at his feet to worship him
I openly wept copious tears of pure joy
and I longed to throw my arms about him
but he said, “Don’t touch me, I’ve not
ascended to My Father, go now, tell all
My Brethren you have seen me risen
and that when the time is right I will
appear unto them to tell them what
they must do, because I live they live”
and then he was gone and my heart wept
with the dark sorrow of his absence but
at that moment I felt his essence inside
healing my sorrow, securing all my hope
lighting the way for the gospel of peace
to Jerusalem, Judea and all the World