everytime i die…
your face is exposed
like a slide in my mind.
in a wrinkle or two.
i can’t seem to iron it out…
no matter how hard i try;
no matter how much i cry.
and maybe for good reason.
His image is there.
in the twinkle of your eye…
in your voice and your actions.
in your thoughts expressed.
through trials He made you
honest, genuine and true.
the way i believe He made me.
and i cannot deny His works.
my faith strengthened;
like a blade being sharpened;
iron against iron.
i cannot sit here doubtful.
i can only stand hopeful.
and fight for His greatness.
but i will win
everytime i die.
only through Him.
