Untombed

Dear Jesus,

This Easter,

resurrect me

yet again.

Depression nestles

under warm, dark

covers while

self-judgment

rears its ugly heads.

Lying here,

frozen in despair,

anger at myself

retches insults

into cold air.

My comforter

comforts not

my weak spirit

but drowns me

in regret.

Blinded to the

sunshine smiles

I still hope

to fumble out

of this paralysis,

And like Lazarus

become

untombed.