I am certain that Jesus was not that
person walking down a dusty road
in an immaculate robe, in Cinemascope
that he was not could never be
whatever it is that you think he was
while worshipping before altars
ornamented in gold.
he was a quieter gold.
he cherished the heart of people,
things. small flowers on the hillside.
the olive groves.
I know he has been depicted otherwise
but Jesus in my heart
never wears this disguise.
he is all candlelit within, his own
this I thought as a little girl.
when I felt his presence on
and in my Easter frame of mind
when the air is heavy with springtime
I think of him as I knew him then:
King of the beautiful,
and my friend.
Mary Angela Douglas is a poet originally from Little Rock, Arkansas now residing in Winston Salem, North Carolina.
She lives in a small apartment with enough used books in all categories to replenish the shelves of all the libraries on the East Coast should there be an Unforeseen Accident in that regard.
Her poetry blog is called: To The Russian Poets, at: