The Christ
I imagine him-
golden brown
sun painted skin
body strong
lean and slightly thin
long muscles formed from vigorous walking
thighs thick from climbing mountains
mountains made by God
and mountains imagined by man
his hands-
long calloused fingers impregnated by miracles
power to heal
to resurrect
to free a soul full of regret
dust sprinkled feet
softly implanted in sturdy sandals
constantly embracing the street
round ebony curls crown his head
like a silken animal hanging on for dear life
a full beard adorns his full angelic lips like a beautiful wife
piercing eyes-
burning like unquenchable flames
stare out from a stern all knowing face
full of wisdom not of this place
his lips part
a spirit stirs within the air
the feeling of invisible hands
brush the skin everywhere
he speaks
“I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
I savor his words in my mind
in my heart they are housed
they are like manna in my mouth
when swallowed-
fire churning in my bones
forcing me to groan gleefully
embracing the idea of freedom
desire envelopes me
enclosing me within emotional ecstasy
ravishing every unworthy part of me
until spiritual rhapsody engulfs me
for I know I am loved
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