Christum ex Abysso

I will be shocked
if you are just

Christ of the Pearly Gates,

for I have reason to hope that you are

Christ of the Barbed Wire Fence,

coiling around prison walls
draped in the torn rags

of a blue uniform.

I have reason to conspire

that you may, in fact, be

Christ of the
and Christ of those

Blue and Red Flashing Lights

in the distance.

You might even be

Christ of the Cracks 

in the West Bank Wall.

If your Christ-y-ness stops
at being 
Christ of the Power Tie,

Christ of the Doctorate,

Christ of the Holiday Home,

or Christ of the Fourteenth Floor Office 

with a Panoramic View of the CBD;

count me out.

For I have heard in hushed rumours

that you are Christ of the Unemployed,

Christ of the Homeless,

and Christ of the 




which makes me suppose

that you may be more than just

Christ of the Stained Glass Window.

You are the Light,
pouring through
 two dimensional frames,

drenching a tired congregation with colour

and reanimating the weary

with three dimensional joy.

You are Christ of the Abyss,

made perfect in the eyes of the Sculptor

then cast into the sea;

beaten by waves, 

pockmarked with barnacles,

scarred by the dangling anchors 

of passing ships

and slicked with shiny oil, 

from the latest spill
just off the coast

of some once lovely shore. 

The Royal Rebel, the King of Kindness,

the Prince of Playing in the Mud.

You are the Rolled-Up-Sleeves Regal,

and the Honest Friend,
who leads me to trust 
the Abyss does end

and that when it does;
there you’ll be

beaten by my own blindness,

pockmarked with nails 

which I would have helped to hammer,

scarred by the anchors 

of my crestfallen cries

and drenched in the light of God

who draws you forth from the mire

cradling his children, in your arms.

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