2 Poems from Debra Goebel
Jesus the Homeless
Wild eyed
blood spattered
and reeking of the streets
an indigent God is he
in a wasteland of plenty
who forages crumbs
for the shadows that move
in the bright sunlight unseen
and rests his head
warm and gritty
upon polished marble hearts
a God who pushes a makeshift cart
collecting prayers abandoned
like litter in the curb
and waits in dusky alleyways
there to welcome wanderers
from more attractive streets
a God so blinded by mercy
he must feel his way
with earth stained hands
among impassive crowds
loving the guilty as if innocent
and the foolish as though wise
a God who from the sidewalk leaps
and sets into motion
a cosmic collision
that binds all heaven and earth
and he, its only casualty
now dark and still
in the crosswalk lying
with the dust of the wreckage
blanketing him like a shroud
and enfolding us in a promise
that the sting of death
shall never claim
any love a home cannot contain
Morning Breaks
Morning breaks as ever
and I rise to the rain
that rains down cold
and sweeps across
the shrouded strand
where between horizons
I cannot see
cold and wet
I cast my net
for as the sea in its hour
retreats from the shore
and returns again
to flood it once more
so I am constrained
to tend this day
as I have every yesterday
for no drop of rain
has God withheld
nor filled one net
without my sweat
nor revealed to me
the land that lies
beyond the reach
of mortal eyes
and when the rain
rains down no more
and blushing clouds
hang o’er the shore
a moon of marble gray will rise
and sterling stars will light the skies
then in my shed, upon my cot
I shall rest my weary heart
and there will be
not one star more
in all the heavens
as was before
yet in the empty dark between
where only death had I once seen
having died
I now see
the workings of eternity.