They say, He is the Son of Man
The Son of God
Born from the Light
The Saviour!
Our Messiah!
Thy Kingdom Come!
Hosannah in the Highest!
They say, He raised people from the dead
Healed the blind
and walked over water
The Saviour!
Our Messiah!
Thy Kingdom Come!
Hosannah in the Highest!
But my heart calls out
and catches the wings of Whistling Kite
She Knows
She Knows,
when His story began
The Original Tale
of a boy
birthed from the forest
grown from the knobbled and buckled roots
His body
entangled,
with mycelium and mushrooms shoots
and the ferns and feathered kin
Raised in Love
from the trees who let him climb
Raised in Love
from the dirt that let him run wild and free
through time
through the grove, and into the clearing,
where the ocean met his gaze
and welcomed him,
and bathed him
and baptized him
and drunk his moonlit tears
And the years and years
passed
A Man, now
A barefoot rebel
flying against a rising Empire
journeying along ancient ridge lines
Carrying comfort in his cloak
to drink and break bread
with those who have ears to listen
to stories of myth and wild
Stories of old and new
gathered from vigils
where he camped in the wilderness of his own heart
kneeling in the sand and soil
bowing before the dawn light
between the sea and sacred trees
well into the star hung night
Oh! The Storyteller
The Rabbi!
The Lover!
and Magician!
He, who’s laugh thundered through valleys
His presence cradled mountains
He danced and played and sung,
the children, caterpillars
crawling over his shoulders
the joker,
the father
He is the beholder…
of the Wild and Green
He smells of cedar, of salt and campfire smoke
Furred chin
and river stone eyes
His hands, rough bark of old tree oak
Layers of dirt on his orche skin
and He prays, and speaks his Holy words
to the birds,
to the stream,
and asks it,
to tumbled them
into a dream
And Whistling Kite, She dives down
and whispers to the wind
Yeshua
Yeshua
A journeyman
Yeshua
Yeshua
A carpenter of the Heart
They say, He is born from the light
Yes! He can be felt in the warmth on the sun!
They say, He healed the blind
Yes! His stories hold visions for all to see!
The Son of God
The Son of the Earth
Yeshua
Yeshua
The forest
The mountains
The sea
The hills
The streams
He is these places
The sand
The wood
The dirt
And roots
He holds this wisdom
This is the Kingdom
This is the Kingdom
Dreamed through the remembrance I carry of Yeshua’s lineage, this poem was written for my mother — the first place I ever felt that ancient current moving through flesh and bone. All my life I have sensed the thread of Yeshua and his beloved companion Mary running through her, through us, through the quiet inheritance of our blood. December 2023
