Not Jesus






Jesus he is not

A once great man

Lying on a doorstep of benevolence

Looking for a miracle

Finding little sacrifice

Warmed only by thoughts of his past

Resting against his world

Lost in a life that never was

Prayer and forgiveness

His only similarity, other than his beard

Disciples, gone, run far from here

Unable to partake in any further contact

Eating daily, his last supper

Drinking from that same cup

Filled but never brimming

Cheap wine, irrelevant but necessary

Abandoned by all who once believed

Only the brave now come calling

Irregular with visits that last but moments

Feeling uncomfortable inside the gaze of a dropout

Preferring to hide behind their lap of luxury

Limiting contact for fear of embarrassment

Finding many excuses to remain aloof

Monsters that once were true friends

Slumped by the cross at the end of his journey

Nailed to streets that have become so cruel

Asking his Lord for an end to this madness

Receiving little, taking less

Certain that someplace an angel lurks

Ready and willing to end this misery

Staring death in its all out glory

An inevitability that will bring well earned peace

© Alan Zoltie

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