Christ's Gentle Eyes

the world cracks open each day,  

spilling noise, greed, broken hands,  

but he walked slow, steady steps,  

his sandals kissed the dusty path.  

I try stumbling behind, a shadow,  

his love an awkward weight—light,  

but heavy like a full heart bursting,  

soft, yet wrenching in its insistence.  

he stops for the bent and bruised,  

those forgotten in alleys, corners,  

shows me what it means to see.  

not look, but see, clear, complete.  

so I kneel, drop stone after stone,  

empty pockets of the selfish coins,  

make room inside this ragged chest,  

one space for those I ignored before.