Christ at Forty Had the crowd asked Pontius Pilate To crucify Barabbas instead, Christ might have lived to see forty. Hair beginning to thin. A little gone at the gut. Maybe he would have married Mary, Settled down a bit, Had a kid. He still would have taught, But maybe less vehemently, Recycling syllabi. He would have had things to do now, A wife and child and aging mother To take care of. Maybe some nights, sitting around After supper, the apostles would ask him To do one of his old tricks. They’d bring out some leftover fish For him to multiply, pour him Some water to turn into wine. He’d try, then laugh, shake his head. Later, in bed, he’d say to Mary, “I think I’m having a midlife crisis.” And she who, before the travail Of labor, had cut off all her hair And still wore it short, Would say, “That’s good. That means you’ll live to see eighty.” Unable to sleep, he might have gone up Onto the roof to call his father, A proud grandfather now, Who had a way of always Making him feel better.
I have complete faith and belief in the risen Christ. He was raised from the dead by God the Father three days after enduring death. Jesus Christ is alive for evermore. Although I comprehend that the author of this poem has a different perspective from mine, my faith in the risen Christ is unwaivering and constant.
I have complete faith and belief in the risen Christ. He was raised from the dead by God the Father three days after enduring death. Jesus Christ is alive for evermore. Although I comprehend that the author of this poem has a different perspective from mine, my faith in the risen Christ is unwaivering and constant.
I love this!
Sensitive. Best wishes with your stories about Christ.
I don’t understand how this is a poem? No pentameter, no rhyme. I just don’t understand.