Email Poem

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Poem

There is the Christ
of a minister's coffer

a Christ of the theater's
show-time

a Christ bought and sold~
the merchant's patron saint

Then, there is the Christ of 
the heart eternal...who I've
met at the breast of a mother
with her newborn, His infant
essence~ her labored reward – 

the Christ I've seen in the 
under-paid nurse, standing in
the shadow of higher accolade

seen Him dismembered, yet
clearly, on battlefields in places
foreign to those blessed selfless'
sighs

sat at the foot of His Throne,
all healed, angels singing praise 
while extending His Hand, saying 
that I should rise: “Glory to God,
in His Highest!”~ no-longer any
fear left in me, seeing only love in
my Brother's Divinely Beckoning 
Eyes.

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