Are you still a Jewish Carpenter
A homeless teacher from Galilee
Son of Mary, Brother of James
Friend to Martha's family
Are you still companion to fishermen
Do you still like sleeping in boats
Have you ridden a donkey lately
Covered by your follower's coats
Do you still face down the Pharisees
With your one-liners and your eyes
Do your arms still open up in joy
To the young ones of all size
If you only walked the beaches
To give Peter's boat a push
Then why does my mother see you
In her lilac bush
Why do my friends talk about you
Like you are alive and in the room
Do they see you like the women did
In front of that empty tomb
Were you only a man in Matthew's story
And just a vision in Mary's mind
If so, what do my people really see
In this place and in this time
Your narrative has woven it's thread
Into their story and into their lives
For them you're not a vision
And you're not just in their minds
They say you live inside them
But that you are also coming soon
And now that has me skeptical
And utterly confused
Can I hope to understand
Who you were and who you are
When those two things are very different
I have no place from which to start
© Ruby Neumann
Poet's Note: (Written June 7, 2022)
I have heard say that it is good therapy to write letters to people you have lost. I "buried" Jesus this year, but that doesn't mean that the memory of that story is gone. The questions are still there and some of the pain is still residual. So maybe I might find some of those questions and some of that pain arise in my poetry. Poetry has always been a good therapist for me.
