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ARTS AND CULTURE

Jesus and his kids

  • 28 February 2012

Jesus calms the storm

I went with Jesus to the other side of the lake.I didn't sleep all night.The stars were rocks,unshaven waves tossed and turned.There was no going back.Morning was a distant shore.The middle of the lake was dark as midnight,with a mood of moon in the skyOnly JesusSleptUntil I called himHow his eyes sang.

Peta Edmonds

Santa Caterina

Here's why I believe that indeed yes, a young woman in Italy onceConversed at length with the One Whom No Name Can EncompassIn the year 1375 or so, by our calendar, although God knows whichCalendar the One goes by. He called her dearest daughter, you see?That doesn't happen unless he really is a father. That's the real deal.There's a fury of love for your kid, a tumult of feeling for which ourWords are flimsy. Like our words for the One. Sometimes I pretendNot to hear you, he said to her, but I do hear you. Boy, I know theseWords. Never lower your voice in crying out to me, he says — neverStop knocking at the door. I know this guy. He's a dad. His childrenDrive him nuts and he would die for them without hesitation. This isWhat I try to say to people when they say what's with the whole guyOn the cross thing, man, that's macabre, that's sick, you people lookAt a guy dying of torture every day, you hang Him in your churchesAnd houses and offices, you carry a dying guy in your pocket, that'sJust weird, and I try to say he's a dad. He volunteered. You'd do theSame for your kids. Sure He grumbled about it, in the garden. I haveStomped down to the laundry room to snarl and throw shoes around.But I go back upstairs because I love them more than I could explain.They drive you nuts but yes you would die for them. I know this guy.

Brian Doyle

Enfleshed

Coming off the parchment,Off the stone tablet,Off the stained glass,You stand at the crossroad,Waiting to sup with us,Forever bisectingOur humannessWith Shekinah Glory.

Teresa Burleson 

Peta Edmonds is a student of poetry and professional writing. She has been writing poetry since the age of 11 and the birth of her brother.

Brian Doyle is the editor