Jesus among the lepers:
Jesus dead on his feet,
wondering what to do.
Sleep deprived,
confused about the purpose
of so many damaged people,
all he wants is for someone to say his name and nothing else.
These caves
foul air,
stumbling over bodies and limbs
reaching out to touch dead flesh,
unable to breathe, or speak,
smoky chambers, eyes burning
it’s as if suffering is the end in itself – his, theirs, everyone’s
not even the banality of evil to cast out.
There is no sunrise
or sunset
in this place.
He is thinking
thinking about the cost of need,
the price of want
thinking he must live somewhere…
What is it like?
Is there light,
clear water,
a soft mattress?
Someone to put a hand on his face,
say his name and nothing else.
  Open link night with the dVerse poets