lenten journal: photographer’s light


    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 blue
    out of the Palestinian sky as it sets,
    making room for the night.

    There is enough light to see the tears
    running down his cheeks as he
    talks about mother hens.

    The gospel accounts would have me think
    that I possess a one of a kind photo,
    but — after a day like today

    when I’ve sat with my friends and heard
    the grief harbored in their hearts,
    I begin to understand

    it could have been taken on any one
    of the nights he walked the earth,
    at most any sunset.



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