The Mortal Christ

“Why bother with these irredeemable men?”

I must — for you see,
 what you claim ruined belongs to me.
 For I am their king —
 scourged,
 the most ruined of them all.

Behold my kingdom:
 a nest of birds with broken wings,
 whose mother — disturbed —
 has left them to fall.

I weep for the breadth of its lifelessness,
 and to the abandoned — comfort I bring.

For I am their empathy —
 deliverance by mercy unto the broken.
 
I swear by the name of our collective reclaim:
 may you who suffer — come one, come all.


"A Christ who has become one of us completely —
no longer a god-man among mortals, but a mortal-god of mortals."
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace