Before we learned how to read and write
And parables were our social media
Something else did happen.
Whatever you believe
He was still a person
With private moments
Of doubt and fear
Who knew he was in big trouble
That his time was short
He only had this time,
The present,
And every day was the same anyway
Waking up to criticism and derision
And plots to kick him out
Not from a club or a job
But to put him to death.
And if you had managed to drag yourself,
Bruised and bleeding,
Up the stony hill
To where he was staying,
Outside the village,
And told him that your sister was seriously ill and dying,
He would have touched your hand
Looked into your eyes
And said, 'Your faith has healed her.'