I Contemplated the Face of Christ

I contemplated the face of Christ;

Rising cheekbones

Sloping brow

Traveling the laugh lines, like a dusty road, somehow.

Line of jaw

caught up in a beard

bead of sweat, magnifying the youth of each pore.

A mirror of all that I thought I could be

excitement, and hope

and incredible fear.

A trickling, glistening, drop of blood

weeping from the wound, worn from the wear

salvation resides implicitly there.

Lips pronouncing; pardoning vow

pools of charism, cast a merciful bow.

Filled with awe and wonder, of which I know I don’t know

look through me, and past me, and deep inside.

I gazed forever, and saw only a piece

willed by a pull, which I could not release.

Perfectly free, to see, or not see

the face of a man

illuminated by divinity.

Wherefore oh man, who knows my name

why do you travel with the sin and the shame?

Why cast my burden upon a face so serene

and cause ripples in a pond

where we toil and glean?

You are the thunder, you are the night.

You are the daybreak, you are the light.

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