Skip to content

Log Out

×

Poetry

Your eyes are a brocade of finches,
feathered bronze and gold-flecked

shards of stained glass, afloat
in pails of morning’s milk.

Your pupils are black as onyx,
as distant stars moments beyond collapse.

I enter through them to find,
in a barn lit through rafters,

the Son of Man
with mud dripping from his hands.

Oh, my God
                      —he looks like you.

Image depends on its subscribers and supporters. Join the conversation and make a contribution today.

+ Click here to make a donation.

+ Click here to subscribe to Image.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Related Poetry

Blessing

By

Kelli Russell Agodon

Apologia

By

Jill Alexander Essbaum

In the Beginning Was the Word

By

Jeanne Murray Walker

According to Peter

By

William Coleman

Receive ImageUpdate, our free weekly newsletter featuring the best from Image and the world of arts & faith

* indicates required