His Aura
I saw him as I entered the city gates—
a man clothed not in robes, but in a strong green light.
His presence bent the air.
Birds above broke into sudden song.
A cool wind swept the dust from the streets.
The city had known no rain for three years.
Yet when his foot touched the ground,
soft rain began to fall,
as though heaven had remembered us.
He walked the street in silence.
A golden ibis descended,
resting upon his shoulder in slow, deliberate motion.
The sick rose from their beds,
though he had not spoken their names.
Animals followed him in quiet procession.
Children ran to him,
crying “Green Heart! Green Heart!”
He raised his hand,
and they answered with laughter.
Behind him, flowers broke open.
Trees bore fruit out of season.
Strangers embraced like brothers.
Sisters sang again in the marketplace.
But who was he?
Some whispered, “A wanderer from the mountains.”
Others fell to their knees and said,
“It is God, walking among us.”
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