The Crucifixion

August 16, 2011

I saw the King of Glory today. He was being crucified.

There was a cross set up for him in the high end plaza, as we built walls made of money to keep ourselves from him. We wore the sweat of children and placed their blood in our earlobes. We poured fabric into that part of our heart meant for him and wondered why that part never seemed to fill.

And as we sharpened our coins into thorns and placed them on his head he looked full into our shifting eyes and told us of his forgiveness and his love.

There was a cross set up for him in the back streets, where we worshiped ruin in the temples of our basements. We borrowed money to add liquid to our blood and sleep past the greatness he had prepared for us.

And as we used our heroin needles to nail him to that cross, he looked full into our glassy eyes and told us of his forgiveness and his love.

There was a cross set up for him in my heart, as my friend threw my laundry in the dirt, then ate my sandwich.

And as my friend told me of his day, I looked full into his eyes and told him of my anger.

The Mountaintop Pulpit

June 26, 2011

I saw Jesus earlier today.

He was speaking a message of love from a pulpit. The only thing about him more sincere than his words, was the way he lived his life when nobody was watching.

I saw Jesus, and he was preaching on the mountaintop.

My Neighbor

June 12, 2011

He would shout at me as I bought my coffee. Hate for something I had yet to discover twisted his spittle-flecked face. Whenever I made eye contact he would deliver one-fifth of a salute and hope that the rage inside of him could extinguish my foolish joy. Many people might have hated him, but I could not.

For it was his hands that were pierced to purchase that joy.

 

 

She would insult me as I spoke on the phone. From her government office, she informed me that my intentions for helping the poor were to get rich myself. After all, we Christians were all alike in that. Before she hung up the phone, she told me that any assistance to these people I wanted to give would be devoid of her blessing. It would have been easy to shout at her, but I couldn’t.

For it was her words that spoke hope into a dark world.

 

 

He would get drunk in an alleyway on alcohol I helped to finance with the bus token I gave him. Staggering down a busy sidewalk, he would shout catcalls at women walking home from work. It would have been easy to resent him, but I could not.

For it was his life of purity that made up for my own glaring faults.