Here’s the other one I wanted to post last night. It was inspired by a bizarre analogy I thought of while counseling a friend. However, I’m not as happy with this one. Maybe that’s just me.

Surgery

I lay upon an operating table
Under a lamp’s blinding light.
I hear the Great Physician’s voice
As He straps me down.
“Your heart of stone is killing you.
I must transplant a heart of flesh,
But I have no morphine.
Do you want to get well?”
Trembling, I reply, “Yes,”
And the Physician begins His work.
His scalpel’s every cut I feel,
Lurching in agony,
My screams muffled by a crucifix
He gave me to bite.
He cuts my sternum, my arteries—blood gushes.
My screams are silenced by pain
Until He tears out my stone-dead heart
And lays a heart of flesh in my chest.
His finger pokes it, and it beats.
New life-blood—pure life-blood—flows within my veins,
And the pain is numbed as He sews shut my chest.
“It is finished,” He says.

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