Lord, Behold, He Whom Thou Lovest Is Sick

Jesus wept for Lazarus,
but was it for the death of flesh
or for the death of soul--
a life mock-resurrected
symbolizing realities yet unripe,
the grapevine grafted over and again
until the end of the age?

And did the Father weep
when He conceived you, Christ,
knowing of the sin
that we would yet conceive?
Did it break His heart
to break Your flesh
with all the wrath stored up
for someone else? For Lazarus?
Mary? Martha? Me?

O Prince, you prayed
that cup of wrath be poured
on other ground, weeping
for Yourself, perhaps, or
maybe for the man whose
lips would drain that cup.

Lord, whether weeping over
Judas, me or Lazarus,
pray us all, forgive me, Father,
for we know not what we do.

The Fall of Man

In amber light the orchard shone:
there in its core one tree alone
with fruit so plump, so ripe, so thick.
I stretched my hand, in secret picked
one juicy pearl and took a bite—
but as I ate that oyster's orb
my mind grew pale; my heart grew cold.
My pulse soon quickened with the fright
of guilt and knowing everything
of stealing, killing, death and sin.

That God Was in Christ, Reconciling the World unto Himself

Green leaves--coccooned in scarlet, orange and amber--
metamorph, burst forth and flit about like butterflies,
brittle wings lilting on the breeze--whirling--twirling into colony.

And on that breeze the heavens blow:
clouds, like heaving bosoms, holding back
the tears of all creation groans,

for as that monarch-multitude is driven into wilderness
by the approaching winter's bondage to decay,
so we too wander--leaf-like lilting into exile--

caught in the outer-darkness rain and snow,
gnashing teeth as we weeping die:
seed-like, dormant, awaiting 
new birth in the apocalypse of spring. 

Then Herod Sent Forth, and Slew All the Children That Were in Bethlehem; or, He Hadn't Stopped Christmas from Coming! It Came!

Herod listened like a Grinch,
his hand cupped to his ear,
for the voice of Rachel weeping
on the midnight clear.

Then sweetly singing o'er the plain
a sound grew, rising o'er the snow--
fahoo fores, dahoo dores,
in excelsis Deo!