He Still Walks Barefoot

EasterWhat if he did not rise from the tomb
As young and vibrant god?
What if he did not rise
Dressed in bright white robes,
But walked forth barefoot as old beggar
Out of the common catacombs,
Scars of nails and thorns still bleeding….
 
Still he walks the streets of every town and city,
Homeless, hungry, outcast in the cold.
If you seek him only singing hymns in church,
You will never find him in your heart—
What’s worse, you’ll live inside delusion,
Never hear hard message that he preached.
“As you do unto the least of these,
So do you unto me.”

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