an easter poem

you have been such a crowd-puller, oh Jesus -
a rebel in the historical sense,
a magician and provider to the faceless mob,
and, moreover, a perfect comedian
hitting on the very foundation of power, tirelessly...

when you had been thoroughly interrogated
you made the foolish king ask, in wonder,
'what is truth?'

that was a marriage party
you came to the limelight
turning water into wine...

it was just the beginning, oh Jesus.
and we effortlessly continue your feat
celebrating your resurrection
drenched in water & wine.

and your resurrection followed by more & more deaths.

your words played magic
as much as it rigged deep holes in the hierarchy.
why don't you come back and see
how much we have fortified the very foundation
manipulating your life & your words?

on a glass of red wine
i wonder at the irony -
that you reduced the number of sinners
and we created them, in millions,
just using your own magic words.

on a glass of red wine
i wonder at the irony -
your laughter brought the people together
and we stripped you of the very human quality
and projected you as sad, but serene & calm.

your immaculate merciful look
that we never had -

Jesus, our altar is decorated with your tortured body,
blood oozing out -
and we have really become serious, Jesus.

why don't you come back?
not to walk on the seas,
not to give life to the dead,
or to make the blind see,
nor to make the lame, walk....

those feats no more make us wonder
nor we enjoy...

but to see
how your own chosen people have divided
not only the lands, but the minds...

maybe, any of your new feats in the kitty
can make us laugh again
and help us get out of the cassocked pulpits.
and laugh again merrily
and laugh again merrily.