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Lizbeth’s We Are The World Blogpost #WATWB

Lizbeth’s We Are The World Blogpost #WATWB

Last week, one tweet (from our former POTUS) and one news story (about a couple of heroes, one canine and one human) especially strummed my heartstrings. For me, they personified love and humanity (and dogity.)

Obama’s Tweet

A tweet by Obama, posted after the violence in Charlottesville, quoted Mandela and was the most-liked tweet ever. It attracted more than 3.3 million likes and 1.3 million retweets as of August 17th.

I’ll include an excerpt. You can read the whole thing at

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin or his background or his religion …,” Barack Obama tweeted on August 16, quoting words from South African President Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom. The tweet was accompanied by a photo of himself, jacket slung over his shoulder, smiling at four young children of different races gathered at a windowsill.

As they say in Hawai’i, Obama gave me “chicken skin.” Mandela (what a great name for a great man, yes?) gave me something even better. He gave me hope that someday the blazing light of love might dissolve the pitch blackness of hate.

Patriot the Husky

Here’s the link to an uplifting story published on August 11th:

Patriot the Husky, a victim of abuse as a puppy, now helps kids who’ve also been victims of abuse. This cycle of events was only made possible by Kevin Marlin, 47, the man who rescued Patriot and taught him to trust again, thus enabling the dog to return the favor by helping hurting children. Patriot helps them through the trauma of having to testify in court. What a heartwarming story of receiving help and giving help back, of suffering abuse and, with the help of emotional support, surviving and sometimes even thriving in spite of it.

 Patriot the dog.  Photos credited to Kevin Marlin

When Kevin Marlin, who’d been involved with pet therapy for 10 years, adopted Patriot, he was 4 months old with severe mouth injuries caused by metal wire wrapped tightly around his snout.

 Kevin Marlin and Patriot

Marlin and Patriot currently work with Orange County’s PANDA Program — PAWS Assist the Needs of the District Attorney. Patriot is one of 13 therapy dogs helping young victims feel more secure when telling their stories.

“One young girl, just beginning the process of a trial, was visibly uncomfortable until Patriot came over and nudged her with his nose,” Marlin said. “The girl grabbed hold of him and cried. They made a strong connection and the girl was able to move on with her story.”

Surprise! A New Format (Podcast or Radio play)

Surprise! A New Format (Podcast or Radio play)

Thanks to the suggestion of my friend Gail Baugniet, former President of Sisters in Crime Honolulu, I recently signed up for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group. Aloha from Hawai’i to all my insecure writer sisters (and misters) friends out there.

In this post, I’ll do my best to answer the September 6 question: Have you ever surprised yourself with your writing? For example, by trying a new genre you didn’t think you’d be comfortable in??

Well, I suppose it’s not actually a new genre, but for sure it’s a new format. In a recent online Creative Nonfiction Writing Boot Camp class taught by the excellent teacher Rhonda Miller, she challenged us to write in a different format than we’d written in before.

I’ve been published in many different formats: my memoir (Angel Hero, Murder in Hawai’i, A True Story), a mystery short story (Palm It Off On Murder), the lyrics for my song Angel Hero, and over 150 non-fiction magazine articles.

But this was different. This was a whole new thing and I had no idea what to include or how to begin. My inner critic (IC) screamed, “You want to WHAT? You know NOTHING about writing a podcast! Everyone will laugh at you and point fingers! You will flounder like a fish on dry land. Who do you think you are?”

I whimpered and cowered until finally I didn’t. I wish I could remember the tricks I’ve learned and apply them when I’m in the depths of doubt. Oh if only I could remember to immediately tell that icy IC, “Thanks for sharing, I’ll  need you when I edit this piece, until then, hibernate,” or repeat the 7-word mantra my friend Marianne taught me, “Everything is always working out for me.”

Somehow, I finally shut IC up and started playing with a podcast/radio drama format. Since I’ve been trying my hand at writing a screenplay adaptation of my book for many moons now, I took a scene from that and tried to re-sculpt it into a podcast or radio drama.

Did I succeed? I’m trying to make it so it will stand alone and make the listener want to hear more. I feel insecure about it because it’s my first shot at a new format. Won’t you tell me if it works for you?

I’ll check out your posts tomorrow, my fellow IWSG bloggers. But right now the Hawaiian trade winds are howling outside my window and I’m grateful they’re only trade winds and not a hurricane. Praying for your safety and wishing you sweet dreams.


Photo of Firemen Trying to Save Big Old Wooden House on Fire

This scene takes place in the dispatch office of Whaler Air Force Fire Department on Oahu. Liz and Irene are dispatchers and friends. Vic and Jaku are firefighter buddies.

LIZ: I’m sorry I’m late for shift change, Irene. I’ll make it up to you.

IRENE: It’s okay, Liz. It’s quiet, no airfield emergencies, no … what’s wrong? Your eyes are all bloodshot …

LIZ SNIFFLES, says: Last night I had a bad dream, the same dream I had after I broke up with Billy. A man attacked me …

IRENE: Little mouse you broke up with big bad Billy?

LIZ: I was so disturbed by his anger, something went through me like a force, like I never felt before. I didn’t hit Billy, but I let him have it.

IRENE:  Good for you.

LIZ: Yeah, but he blew up at me and … split.

Liz SNIFFLES again.

IRENE: There, there. I always thought you could do better than that angry bum.

LIZ GIGGLES, says shyly: To tell the truth, something Vic said motivated me.

IRENE: Oh? What did Adonis say?

LIZ: Pussyfooting around ain’t no good way to live.

Irene LAUGHS: Vic’s your personal counselor now?

LIZ: We’re pals. He’s got my back.

IRENE: Pals, huh? How unromantic. Any chance you two …

LIZ: I wish. But he’s taken, and I’m hurting …

IRENE: Billy might come back if he just left a few nights ago.

LIZ: No, it’s been two months now. Mum’s the word, okay?

IRENE:  Two months! Why didn’t you tell me?

LIZ: I should have. You’re my best …



IRENE: Things’ll get better, you’ll see.

LIZ: I’m okay. Time for you to head out.

Liz BLOWS her nose.

A KNOCK is heard at the door.

IRENE: If you want to keep it secret, wipe your eyes. Here’s some eye drops. Want some makeup?

LIZ: Sure. Thanks.

IRENE: That’s better. I’ll get the door.

Door CREAKS open.

LIZ: What’s happening, Vic?

VIC: Your eyes are red, Liz … is it Billy again?

Liz SNIFFLES: It’s just … oh, hi, Jaku.

JAKU: Hey doll face. Ever tell you about the time in ‘Nam when a fire broke out in the galley? I was first on scene … Bombs falling all around, I put ‘em out with my trusty fire hose … whoosh, whoosh!

Vic and Liz LAUGH.

VIC: Take a break, Snake?

JAKU: Why you calling this fine lady a snake?

VIC: ‘Cause she’s a yogurt teacher.

JAKU: Yogurt?

LIZ: He means yoga.


VIC:  All that yogurt makes her slither like she’s got no bones.


JAKU: Snaky Lizzy .. give me your hand …

LIZ: Ooh, la la. Getting my hand kissed by Jaku. You’re like a knight in armor…

JAKU: I’ll be your knight any old night.

LIZ: I’ll take that break, Vic.


Only Love, Part 1

Only Love, Part 1

Wouldn’t it be fabulous if you could rewrite a heartbreaking event in your life so it would turn out the way you wanted?

I compressed a segment of my memoir into a short story. What follows is a shameless attempt to whet your appetite, dear reader, in hopes you’ll want to devour Angel Hero, Murder in Hawai’i, A True Story, in its entirety.

For a tantalizing taste of the book, go to https://authorlizbethhartz/chapter1  and download the first chapter for free.

I titled this short story “The Fire of Love.” It’s too long for one blog post, so I’ll share it in seven consecutive posts.

Only Love, Part 1

Brisk trade winds blew soggy flakes of red-paper firecrackers, residues of Chinese New Year the day before, into my teary eyes on a rainy February morning. I’d woken up lonely, the pit of my stomach flipping like an egg in a skillet. Here I was, a quarter of a century old today, and the Prince Charming of my fantasies was nowhere in sight. My teary eyes rolled up to look at the dusty ceiling, and I whispered, “Please help me find my soul mate, Lord.” Wanting to escape my too-quiet Honolulu apartment, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. Soon I was traipsing along littered Chinatown streets, on the lookout for something that signaled hope, when a purple-lettered sign, “Aurora, Clairvoyant Palmist, $20,” tacked to a worn wooden door caught my eye.

A green-eyed, smiling woman answered my knock, flinging the door open and saying, “I’ve been expecting you, dear.”

Really? Was this her standard rap, or the answer to my prayer? I smiled back.

Motioning me to follow her, Aurora floated across the room, her tent-like purple muumuu billowing around her. Sandalwood-scented incense wafted over us as we perched on torn upholstered chairs at a round wooden table.

The instant Aurora touched my palm with the tip of one of her purple fingernails, she ripped the veil blanketing my heart, exposing a place deep inside where a heavy block of heartache lay. A place I’d kept hidden until her touch dug it up. Sorrow rose up like a towering wave and crashed through me, my heart pounding. I sobbed convulsively. Oh god. Am I having a nervous breakdown?

“It’s just past life sorrow,” Aurora clucked. “Don’t worry, Goldilocks.” She offered me a tissue and studied my right palm, which she called my experience hand. “See the psychic cross connecting your lifeline and heart line, dear? You cry because you’re sensitive.”

Nodding, I blew my nose. “My mother called me her little witch Lizzy.”

She studied my right hand. “Was your father present when you were growing up, Liz?”

“When he wasn’t flying B-52s for the Air Force.”

Aurora pointed to a depression where my second finger met my palm. “See this? The lack of a mound tells me you lacked a male role model growing up.”

Tears flooded my eyes again, and my stomach did another flip. “I never knew when Dad would explode in anger. As a kid, I’d wake up sweating, running from men chasing me with a hairbrush in my dreams. As a teenager, I escaped into fantasies, my favorite one marrying a kind, faithful man totally different from Dad.”

The woman said softly, “You still carry heartbreak in your aura from longing for, but lacking, a man’s love.” She told me I’d carried the pain into this life from a prior lifetime. “You loved a married man. He asked you to become his mistress, as was the custom of the times.”

The palmist went on about how the prospect of unsanctified sex had scared me so badly I withdrew to the church and became a nun, where I made spiritual gains through prayer and meditation. “Hence your psychic ability now,” she added. “But you pined for that man until you died. You hurt yourself retreating from your heart’s desire like that. Such withdrawal is a kind of suicide.”

Aurora told me, if I could break out of my shell and learn how to speak up for myself, I could experience an exalted spiritual relationship with a man in this lifetime and beyond. The kind of love you long for, that will last forever. “But be careful not to fall for explosive, angry men like your dad,” she cautioned, “lest you perpetuate the heartache that has plagued you so long.” Her emerald eyes reflected the flickering candlelight. “Do not forget.”


Did I spark your interest? Please send me a comment.


Hear ye! Hear ye! A Mystery Anthology Is Born!

Hear ye! Hear ye! A Mystery Anthology Is Born!

DARK PARADISE, Mysteries in the Land of Aloha, a compilation of 17 Hawaiian mystery short stories (one of them my short story Palm It Off On Murder), has been in the planning stages for two years. I’m thrilled to announce that, on Monday, April 3, the Facebook page DARK PARADISE goes live. Editor of the anthology, author Gail Baugniet, has arranged for a “Cover Reveal” on their Facebook page for this exciting new mystery anthology.

The anthology, with a Foreword by best-selling author Toby Neal, will be released in trade book and e-book formats at the second week of April, 2017. Each of the 17 mystery short stories is set in Hawai’i and all offer unique perspectives about living in Paradise (here’s a spoiler from Gail: it’s not all rainbows and Mai Tais!)

Plan to visit us on Facebook, Monday, April 3. Along with the cover reveal, we will share some of the short story plotlines, details about the authors, and tidbits of writing information we’ve picked up along the way.

Each participant blogging today has offered to reveal a tidbit about their short story . . . without giving away the plot. You can visit each site listed below to get a sneak peek at what is lurking behind the fabulous DARK PARADISE cover!


Here’s my tidbit; the question posed by my mystery short story Palm It Off On Murder:

What happens when left-brained chiropractor Barry and his right-brained palmist girlfriend Aurora team up in a whole-hearted effort to catch a killer?

A little background: In 2016, my true-crime/romance memoir Angel Hero, Murder in Hawai’i, A True Story, was published by Kwill Books (my book trailer, accompanied by my song Angel Hero, plays at I’m proud to say I kept my promise to the true life hero, Vic, to tell his story or die trying.

Now, in this short story, I am showcasing a different hero, my fiancé Barry. Palm It Off On Murder is my first published mystery short story. In real life, Barry expertly fixes his patients’ backs, often in one adjustment. He truly is “The Doc Who Always Gets It Right”.

Lizbeth, who adopts the palmistry name Aurora in my story, believes love is stronger than death, and hands can reveal truths hidden from the conscious mind. Somehow Lizzy turned out to be somewhat like me. As my mama used to say, the fruit doesn’t fall very far from the tree.


A talented group of local authors have written short stories for Dark Paradise, including Laurie Hanan, Gail M. Baugniet, A.J. Llewellyn, Bob Newell, Alain Gunn, Gay Coburn Gale, Rosemary and Larry Mild, Michael Little, Doris Chu, D.W. Scott, David W. Jones, Shauna Jones, D.V. Whytes, Hannah Cheng, and Carol Catanzariti.

Here’s a list of some of their websites:

Gail M Baugniet
Laurie Hanan
David W. Jones
D.V. Whytes
Toby Neal
D.S. Scott
A.J. Llewellyn

A is for the Astrological Connection of Palmistry and the Planets #AtoZApril2017Challenge

A is for the Astrological Connection of Palmistry and the Planets #AtoZApril2017Challenge

Interested in palmistry? If you are, you’ll notice many astrological terms used therein, such as Mounts of Venus, Jupiter, and Mercury, Line of Mars, etc.  Why, you ask? Because palmistry and astrology have been linked for centuries. Each finger is associated with a planet. For example, the base of the thumb is associated with Venus, the outer edge of the palm with the moon.

(For myself, I became interested in palmistry when I read a man’s hand who had murderer’s thumbs. And he later murdered his friend. But that’s another story. The story, actually, of my book Angel Hero, Murder in Hawai’i, A True Story. But I digress.)

Originally, it was thought that the planets influenced the makeup of the hands. The traditional names of the various parts of a hand are linked to the seven visible planets—the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. However, palmistry can be understood without knowing anything about astrology.

The Public and Private Hand

Take a ruler or a pen and lay it down either hand, from between the two middle fingers down to the wrist. The side of the hand that includes the thumb concerns public life, so it has an “Ascendant” and “Midheaven” vibration to it, like in Astrology. The other side of the hand connects more closely to relationships and home life, having a “Descendant” and “Imum Coeli” (bottom of the sky) feel to it.

The Jupiter, Saturn, Sun, and Mercury Sections

In the diagram above, you can see that the index, two middle fingers, and little finger (and the mounts below them) are designated Jupiter, Saturn, Sun and Mercury, in that order.


Thanks for reading my post! Check back tomorrow for the letter B: A Brief History of Palmistry.


A Hodgepodge of Poems from the Heart

A Hodgepodge of Poems from the Heart

Double rainbow and evening light on beach, Kauai Island, Hawai’i


A Medley of Poetry

While wrestling today with what to write for Susannah Conway’s Blogging from the Heart assignment, the idea to write poetry pounced on me. So I pulled out some old poetry and spiffed it up, and scribbled down some new. And then, as is my wont, I edited and reedited, and now I hope it’s up to snuff. Would you please let me know what you like or don’t like about my medley?

I woke up this morning with this poem about my magnificent significant other, Barry, swimming through my mind.


Beneficent Barry

Barry bares his kind heart

This healer, this hunk

Of a bad ass, of a good guy

My love for him high

As the sapphire sky


He makes my lows less low

Less scraping the ground

My world better all around

And brighter and lighter

Look up at the sky, angels flying

Like me, taking themselves lightly


I love the Haiku form. Last night’s restlessness was the impetus:


Night Haiku

Night but I can’t sleep

Though peace lies thick as midnight

Ghosts walk in my mind


Watching an Oceanfest competition on TV where gymnast couples and a dad with his small son surfed in tandem inspired me to write this poem:


Surfing Tandem

Blue-green tiers of waves

Feathering in the Oceanfest

Gymnast couples like balls on boards

Balance, bowl over

Papa surfs in tandem, small son teeters

Dad slings boy

Over steady shoulder

A boulder on a board

Gliding to shore


This poem was inspired by the memory of heartache when I was an unwitting and unwilling side of a man-and-two-women triangle:


Let Me Pretend

This time he’ll stop and he will see me

Really see me, and he’ll wonder

Why he tears my heart asunder

Question why he could not see

The love that grows in him for me

He’ll beg me not to let us end.

Let me pretend.


This time I’ll say, “Why must you lie?

If you love her, let me go,

If you love me, tell her so

I don’t believe your alibis

Every time she calls, I die.

I’m strong enough to see us end.”

Let me pretend.

Hawai’i Changes the Law on First-Degree Murder Again – Part 1

Hawai’i Changes the Law on First-Degree Murder Again – Part 1


While attending a Sisters (and Misters) in Crime meeting during May of this year, the topic of first-degree murder in Hawai’i raised its grisly head. Actually, I raised it. My intentions were good. I wanted my fellow SINCs (Sisters in Crime) to get their facts straight when they wrote about murder. Since I’m the only author in the group who’s written about a killing that really occurred, I volunteered to talk about the penalty for the murder described in my true crime memoir Angel Hero.

“That murder took place in 1985,” I told a dozen or so writers as we sat at round tables in Makiki Library. “Twenty-eight years later, in 2013, the law changed. The conviction for first-degree, premeditated murder that occurred in 1985 could not have happened in 2013. The new rule for a first-degree murder conviction in 2013 was that a police officer or judge had been killed. The murderer in Angel Hero would have been convicted of second-degree murder instead of first if that murder had occurred in 2013.”

A woman in the group frowned and shook her head. “A conviction for first-degree murder has to do with premeditation, not whether you kill a cop or a judge.” She looked something up on her smart phone. “The law agrees with me,” she added. “Better get your facts straight lest you embarrass yourself, Liz. If that’s what you say in your novel, better change it.”

“It’s not a novel, it’s a true crime romance memoir.” I gritted my teeth. My heart races when someone tells me I’m wrong about something that I’m sure as shooting I’m right about. I have to breathe deeply for a bit before I speak.

So I breathed in and breathed out. As world renowned peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh recommended, I did my darnedest to rejoice in my breathing in, and smile at my out breath.

“I never said premeditation wasn’t a factor in a murder conviction.” I smiled. “And I’m sure I’m right about the change in law, but I’ll Google it and get back to you.” I could hardly wait to surf the net and find some facts that proved her wrong.

What did my research reveal? I was correct. Back in 1985, the gunman I write about in my book was convicted of first-degree, premeditated murder. He was sentenced to life in prison (20 years,) but the parole board set the minimum at less than half that time.

In 2013, however, the law changed. Even if a killing was premeditated, the gunman could no longer be charged with first-degree murder unless a judge or police officer was fatally shot. Had the gunman I wrote about in Angel Hero murdered someone in 2013 instead of 1985, he would have been charged with second-degree murder.

The woman was correct that first-degree murder is premeditated. Defined as an unlawful killing that is both willful and premeditated, the latter means it was committed after planning or “lying in wait” for the victim.

(To be continued tomorrow)

Writing a Fictionalized Memoir, Part 1

Writing a Fictionalized Memoir, Part 1

An author friend of mine, Laurie Hanan, got me a gig speaking at a local library recently. Because my book Angel Hero is a fictionalized memoir, the librarian asked me to talk about writing one. I worked long and hard on my 15-20 minute speech before I came up with this version, which I’ll post over the course of four posts.


Writing a Fictionalized Memoir, Part 1

In this age of “reality” TV, there’s a huge audience for shared real-life experience. Readers are hungry for true stories. We want to listen to a voice that says, “I really did this, and this is what I learned.” A voice speaking the truth and touching our hearts.

I hope to be such a voice for you today as I tell you a little bit about the grisly crime I survived and the love I experienced, as told in this second edition of my fictionalized memoir Angel Hero. It’s a memoir because the story is true. I call it fictionalized because the names, dates, and places have been changed to protect the innocent.

Remember how angrily readers and Oprah Winfrey reacted to writer James Frey, who passed off A Million Little Pieces as a memoir rather than a novel in 2006? Frey broke a contract with the reader, that if you call your book a memoir, you don’t make up new events, or change the old ones, or embellish too much, or invent dialogue. Since he fictionalized events and dialogue, he should have called his book a novel based on a true story.

Is anyone here writing a memoir? If you are, and you want to get it published for a larger audience than your family and friends, be careful not to write anything false or damaging about anyone. If you do, even if you’ve disguised who they are, you could be sued for libel, or even thrown in jail.

If you’re seeking a publisher, you’ll want to tell a page-turning story. You’ll need tension, conflict, and a story arc to drive the action. You’ll need a story people will want to read, perhaps something like, “A timid dispatcher who’s been denied love throughout her lifetime finds the courage to stand up to a murderer when she finds true love.” At least, I hope people will want to read this, because this is the story arc of my book.

In Chapter 1, I write that I transferred from the Army Fire Department to Whaler Air Force Fire Department. People ask me, “Why didn’t you call it by its real name instead of Whaler?” My answer: “For the first 29 years of writing my book, I changed the names and descriptions of people, and the dates, and the names of places, and called the book a novel inspired by a true story. I changed these details because I agreed with my writers group and friends who said, since the gunman still roamed the streets of Honolulu, it was dangerous to use real names and dates lest he find out what I’d written about him.”

Last month, after discovering the gunman had passed away, I changed the genre from a novel to a fictionalized memoir. I don’t need to pretend this is a made-up story anymore.


Sisters in Crime, Ray Bradbury, and Me – Part 1

Sisters in Crime, Ray Bradbury, and Me – Part 1

Makiki-Library-tallKnowing I would be one of four mystery authors to participate in a panel discussion at a Sisters in Crime meeting at Makiki Library in September, 2015, I’d done my research. In a small hot area enclosed by bookcases, twenty or so of us Sisters (and Misters) in Crime pulled our chairs close to round tables.

I sweated, fanned myself with a red round fan courtesy of the library, and glanced at my notes about the two questions I’d agreed to answer. Which author, living or dead, would I choose to do lunch with and why? What height of accomplishment did I reach when my book Angel Hero was published last year?

My immediate choice of authors was Ray Bradbury, famous fantasy writer. As a wide-eyed child nurtured by fairy tales and magic, the no-nonsense diet doled out by my just-the-facts-ma’am dad left me starving.

Ravenously, I devoured Bradbury’s enchanting short stories and novels, shouted “Yes!” to battling witches’ sinister spells, felt my thumbs prickle when Mr. Electro sizzled and embryos in bottles haunted dark carnivals, rode a rocket to the murmuring canals of Mars where gray-eyed Martians seeped into my bones, got sloppy drunk on Dandelion Wine and thirsted for more.

In his book Zen and the Art of Writing, Releasing the Creative Genius Within You, Bradbury recommends writers write about what they love and what they hate. “What do you want more than anything else in the world?” he asks. “Find a character like yourself who will want something or not want something with all his heart.”

In Angel Hero I, like Bradbury, wrote about a character who wanted something with all her heart. One big difference between this fiction master and me is that, while his characters are a little like him, they are also a whole lot different.

In my book, however, the main character is essentially me, and the other characters are essentially them. And my story is true except for names, dates, and locations, whereas Bradbury’s are as fictional as fiction gets.

(to be continued in the next blog post)

Resurrection Song, Second Version

Resurrection Song, Second Version


ShelleyMiller In 2004, when I was writing song lyrics, I had the good fortune to hook up with talented singer/songwriter Shelley Miller. On a shoestring, without the aid of a recording studio, she transformed my lyrics into a medium-tempo folk song, created the music, and sang my Resurrection song beautifully. In less than two weeks, she polished off the recording so I could submit it in time for the 2004 Songwriting USA contest. Shelley’s talents have continued to grow; you can check out her website at

Followers of my blog know this is the second Resurrection song I have posted here. I wrote the lyrics of both to honor my dear late friend Vic Lazzarini, the hero of my memoir Angel Hero.



Lyrics by Lizbeth Hartz/Music and Vocals by Shelley Miller


I loved you madly, did you know?

I wish I’d told you so

But both of us were shy, and I

Never dreamed that you would die


At the hand of a jealous friend

You never saw until the end

The hate he hid inside his mind

The lust that made him deaf and blind


Three days of grief, then resurrection,

I felt his bullets shatter me

And prayed to know why this should be

Three days of grief, then resurrection

Your energy shines out to me

Love connection, resurrection


I dreamed you died protecting me

Your spirit felt so wild and free

As you ascended into light

I plunged into the darkest night


It comforts me that God above

Says no man has a greater love

Than he who dies to save a friend

Could that be why your soul transcended


Three days of grief, then resurrection,

You fought with him and thought of me

I’ll always be your devotee

Three days of grief, then resurrection

Your energy shines out to me

Love connection, resurrection


On days when grief won’t set me free

I feel your love anointing me


Three days of grief, then resurrection,

You touch my dreams so tenderly

Your energy infuses me

Three days of grief, then resurrection

Great heart, your love still shines for me

Love connection, resurrection

Resurrection, resurrection

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