You won’t believe me when I say this <br />Indeed I speak it still in fear <br />But the memory lingers with me, like the wound of a rusty nail <br />I saw the face of Jesus <br />Yes it’s true <br />No please don’t mock me <br />I did not believe it either, I did not recognize him at first <br />But then neither did the twelve in that dim ether long ago <br />His eyes were filled with love, inexplicable to me <br />And yet there was an anger and a sorrow, even fear <br />His hair was matted, rather dirty <br />And the clothes were worn and tattered, hardly elegant or refined <br />Yes, you laugh <br />And think I’m crazy <br />But I tell you that it’s true <br />I saw the face of Jesus <br />Imploring and alone <br />If only I’d seen him sooner, but I didn’t recognize him, you see <br />Till his body lay stiff and cold <br />Swaddled in the corner of the subway station, only ten or twelve years old <br />Homeless and forgotten <br />And believe me, you who will, with more venom than the Pharisees <br />Pontius Pilate and the rest <br />We have crucified Him <br /> <br />Again. <br /> <br /> <br />(Previously published in Poetry Soul to Soul, Dec.2006)<br /><br />Laurence Overmire<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-second-coming-2/
