In the Mind of God
This world is not conclusion
I’m not the son of a carpenter, your every look told me.
Living in mistaken circumstances, I’m the son of a king.
I tried to please my father by picking up the rip saw
but I could see, even at five, words cut more readily.
I’m the son of a king, so I thought and thought until
a star dropped from the sky, then I’m the son of God.
I bade you farewell, wiped your eyes with my wrists,
set off to find the falling star and seize my destiny.
The men, the neediest men, I ordered to follow me.
The women I pitied for their strength and told not to sin.
When they told me you were outside, asking for your son,
I knew then I didn’t belong to you, I belonged to them.
Be strong, woman, the cross you see is not a cross. Far
away, a woman will write, This world is not conclusion.
Be comforted, woman, all of us are never who we seem.
My son, this is your mother. My mother, this is your son.