Eyes of Christ

The shining children were gathered around in a warm church basement room, recieving lessons They were told to look for the eyes of Christ in the faces of strangers I looked on through the darkest eyes in the room wondering if children like these would ever see their savior's eyes in the huddled forms I see each night or in the tormented faces of those whose worlds are broken Next day, in a great hall of pain long ago and far away, yet as close as the moment, I stood beside the fourteen-year-old stranger who'd been my dinner companion the night before as we pondered an exhibit of disemembered bodies, souls, and lives and I wondered if she saw the eyes of Christ in those tormented faces, and wondered, if those sunken eyes still had the power to see if they would see salvation in her face An hour later, I saw her emerge, smiling with friends, from the museum gift shop and wondered if she were numb to the nightmare that had just been thrust upon her Still later, we exchanged warm goodbyes and as night fell upon us, and I emerged from the tabernacle that feeds my spirit, I wondered if she, now in safe, distant comfort would close her eyes in sleep and glimpse a tear from the eyes of Christ I sipped the wine of my communion, still wondering if I'd ever see the eyes of Christ in the face of an innocent child. Written February 14th, 2002 © on Feb 14 2002 03:40 AM PST   10 • 0