Lonely Jesus

Sometimes I feel ashamed of
"I am that I am" within me.
After all, I can make
a human body wilt,
the wind can carry away the dust.

I pray to my father
when I cannot listen to one more word
from my disciples.
They look at me with a mixture
of fear and wonder.
I pray to my father...
I keep my humanity.

I walk on water
when I am quiet inside,
nothing can knock me off
the path I've made for myself.
Attraction ignited, candles
in the wind,
people come forward: they are not afraid.
Moths drawn to a flame
of exposure.

The bread and fish multiply,
I wonder if I am being eaten
for I cannot tell where good ends.
The wine multiplies, and I wonder:
can people taste my blood?
Do they see me or do they see light
dissolving my flesh and bones,
blinding their eyes, opening their hearts,
do they know
that I am the messiah?

The more miracles I perform,
the more I feel this human skin
peeling off of me.
The more I show my Godness,
the more I feel that I am submitting to Satan.
I don't want to turn the world into my world.

The people, they could not go 40 days with me
into the valley of darkness.
The bread multiplied because
they could not live on my words...
their organs
cannot live on words.
I cannot ask them to repeat my suffering
but why am i suffering
but as a passion, as a love
for mankind.

And if on the cross I were to cry out to God
and say
"Save Me."
I would not say
"Why have you forsaken me?"
I would have submitted to Satan's
last temptation.
How deep the serpent is
to slither upon my path with such dalliance.

Pregnant with
"I am that I am"
Mother.