I Dreamed of Jesus
His eyes, they do pierce...
Sharper than the points of the nails
That punctured his hands and feet,
More accurate than the blade of the spear
That drove blood and water from his side.
Last night, I was sitting at a drawing table
(Whether I was writing or drawing,
Or preparing to do so, I do not know.)
In a room without walls with the table lamp on.
Both my arms were on the table top
As light from the west stretched shadows
To the east until they were no more.
His figure drew near, but He was not alone.
Mirjana held his left hand like a royal.
Her hair was up, and she was in a long gown.
She was enveloped with light like one of his angels.
Her facial expression was that of Eve in the arms of God
Being carried to Adam, who was about to be touched.
When I looked at Him, it seemed my eyes closed;
But His face still came to me. Through my eye lids,
I surveyed His image. It was the whitest white
Mingled with the gold of sunrise, translucent
From head to toe; He was floating toward me
With a smile on His face. His hair was long and brown;
But the light made it look white; His teeth were straight.
His full beard appeared like his hair, and then...
Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2009
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