After Sarah Klassen’s “Horizon”
It isn’t easy to write a poem about
Jesus. One might describe his lean legs, soiled toes
trampling smooth stones, riding a wave,
his cheek turning to mark the hand that slaps,
fingers of clay reaching to cleanse cloudy eyes,
his eyes that see through skin to stiff neck, congested
Perhaps a poem would reveal
stripes where his tunic should have been,
tears from breaking the fall, clearing a path
through the swords, thieves, and rust.
But could a poem capture
the sizzle of fish on the rock,
the woo of wind by his open side,
the laugh in his throat as he calls,
Have you caught anything?