through life’s storm-death razing waves
many claim to have seen this Jesus
they run with glee to carnivore crowd
shouting in quiet, subtle voices ‘Ecce Homo!’

mirror, mirror upon our wailing wall
who is the most Christ-like of us all?

each one like Narcissus before the pool
loves forward with relieved suplicant sigh
no change, no movement is required
for He is warm-blooded immanence
‘He is like I!’

doom-hammer voices pound as nails through flesh
making a man of God, and a dust-filled god of man

I cannot say for certain what He looked like
but I can in foolish fearlessness declare –
He did not look like malformed ragged me
nor I in any way conform to heavensent He

Long lost is glorious resemblance
leaving bent, folded broken shadows
incomplete sickly songs of innocence
aimless wandering echoes of creation
futile fingers seeking transcendence