one of the photographs of Jesus
I keep in the wallet of my mind
is of him looking out over Jerusalem.
the sun is burning the last bits of
Judean blue out of the Palestinian
sky, making room for the night.
the long reaches of the last light
catch the tears running down his face
O, that I could gather you up, he says . . .
I pulled the picture out tonight
because I wish we could be gathered
rather than making a verb out of distance
the gospel accounts would have me think
that I possess a one-of-a-kind-photo:
“Jesus Grieves over the Holy City”
but when I pull down the albums
of my heart to find my friends and
see the grief harbored in their hearts,
I know it could have been taken
on any one of the nights he walked
the earth, at most any sunset.
sorrow and love mingle down all
the days and across the distance
my favorite picture of us