Apparently You're Dead...

Apparently You're dead.

There is a seemingly, general consensus, from people who don't usually talk about such things, that You were a `good` man. Who only did `good` things, who taught `great truths`. You were probably massively misquoted when it comes to your purported more outrageous claims, and it's more than certain that these `claims` were inserted later by fanatics, the usual suspects; with an agenda.

A whipped up sand-storm in the Judean desert,
single file,
faces covered up;
determined to reach the village before nightfall.
Someone is calling out,
the voice competing with the wind's howl.
He turns,
and shouts an encouraging word.

Even though You were a good man, a question comes to mind. Why can just Your name induce such mixed, and negative responses? A spontaneous feeling of embarrassment, or as if a bad smell has been discovered, or a groan at such a random, powerfully irrelevant intrusion. That name bears such weight. A name banished from mainstream `polite` and `intelligent` conversation. This could be due to the overuse by obviously ignorant, bigoted, usually American, or our more deceived compatriots. A name that has become an expletive, a byword for the bleating `God botherers`:
Jesus!

The few soft glowing lights,
issue a poor invitation.
A rough hewn door is opened,
and excited faces gather to welcome
the men from Galilee.
An old grandmother, care-worn but smiling,
takes His bearded, wind-swept face in her hands,
and kisses it.
"I knew your mother in Nazareth!"
He smiles, eyes loving her greeting.
"Bless you mother,
we're hungry,
have you some bread and wine?".

I was 27 when You found me.
20 years later. 20 years of walking a road You first walked. And how do I feel when considering that phrase:
`Apparently Your dead` ?
I feel a heart glow of rising faith. If You're dead, and this love is so real, what would it be like if You `were` alive? I imagine rising far higher than You've taken me thus far!

The room is filled,
wood smoke and loud contented chatter.
He is seated on the ground,
surrounded by children.
His mouth is full,
and there are crumbs in His beard.
a very young child,
is asleep in His lap.
A little girl,
eyes closed in adoring satisfaction,
leans her head against His side.
He is talking, and eating,
and the children are absorbed.
Some too young to comprehend,
are mesmerised,
by His soft, low, enchanting timbre.
"And that's how much He loves you!"

Yesterday I was talking to two Irish `Travellers`, two new believers.
"And that's how much He loves you!"

If He's dead my life has been a glorious, beautiful, illusion.
I believe He's alive.