Hannah's Poem

I sometimes imagine a
jesus
with weary, tight, eyes
who sighed while asking this
question.
"Who do YOU say that I am?"
and i cringe, imagining
birds flying overhead and dry wind
and the messiah.. tapping his sandal. Waiting.
for what might have been the wrong answer.
From Peter. from me.

But. i wonder.
How different was this life?
lived as love-
Than any I have ever seen?

What if the truth
is that Jesus
really did love these guys.
(and really does love me..)
What if this stooping God
in ragged human form
Stood there on the road,
(that would eventually take him to Jerusalem)
popped the question,
and grinned..
Because He knew
more than anyone,
the door that He was opening
and the light that was streaming in.