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Storing up treasure

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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

heart beneath.

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?

—Angeline Schellenberg

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