Two Men, One Moment

Two Men, One Moment


"Two Men, One Moment"

(“Jesus started crying.” John 11:45)

Pasted on the windows, keeping out the light are the
dead estimates of the number of fakes made,
shallows populating,
skin-deep cooperating to make my town the
counterfeit;

And the places where the sun shines

The true light and glory.

We tape the posters of pass receivers,
nouveau divas,
politics with promises and
models in million-dollar dresses

Then complain how superficial the world has become.

Spit from our own tongues days after
hearing His love
we cannot wait to hate the fake
we think permeates the circle I’ve drawn
so narrowly.

I don’t know why Lazarus died,
a sickness, a bug, with no known cure.
Jesus didn’t care the cause, and He omitted the cure,
wasting His time until finally arriving.

Life for Lazarus, the weepers, the hired mourners,
the laughers, the gaffers, the know-it-alls who hate
the drama
and stir up more than their share.

He saw the tears and did not measure the sincerity
in metrics, the misery in gallons. He did not listen
for the earnest lamentations, or chastise those who arrived
simply for the show.

He showed up late, Lazarus died, the family was confused,
a few cast Him aside and most didn’t have an opinion at all
unless it suited their momentary emotions.

Me, I’ll make it
clear who is fake and who is not, and show how deep I’ve become
in my old age.

Jesus, focused and peripheral
merely cried with the crowd

Before opening the tomb for Lazarus to depart
without injury. Two men, one moment, who
hadn’t measured the opinions or the drama