just stop

stop looking for Jesus

in all my poems.

i mean - i’m sure he’s in there

somewhere

sometimes

haunting the words

(he likes to do that)

whispering in the ear,

confusing the issues –

but I suspect

he’s more likely sitting beside you

while you’re reading,

astounded

you keep finding him –

like Waldo –

in every scene.

this need to see him

in every line

is a perverse hide and seek –

where you hide

(and miss)

what the poem is hiding.

you resist the poem –

its ability to surprise you.

you nail it to the page,

flay the words,

filling the empty spaces

with some imagined revelation;

this text, and that text,

and the next word.

let him announce himself;

let him give up the Ghost.

i have no idea what he’s trying to say –

i can’t hear him over your affirmations,

choking on the words

you force into his mouth.

instead,

try entering

the poem’s space

and wait.

look for yourself there,

if you must.

maybe Jesus will meet you;

maybe not.