I See My Lord As Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

A shadow in the night,
And not a king, enthroned
To a seat adorned with rubies and gems,
But in a dark corner of an alley, desolate and lonely.

I envision my Lord as,
A man glinting not with whites and clarity,
Of the purity that men strive for earnestly,
But with a sepulchral hue of austere skin

I see my Lord,
Not as a land, fought for in a war,
But a soldier, with a clamors of the heart,
Not heard from distances, muffled in a barrel of a rifle

I imagine my Lord,
Not as a king that feasts in the grail of all that is divine,
With a body for bread, blood for wine,
Rather, amongst us, in perilous states of scrawny skin

Not feasting upon sumptuous delicacies,
But rather sullying in presumptuous aches of a heart,
That pangs up cobblestones and pinnacles,
Cascading past trembling frameworks of crying facades

And yes, I see my Lord,
With a stubble that spreads like wildfire,
And a longing for salvation too, yes salvation,
That seethes with an ocean of ire

Because all the men around Him,
Have been sinning for centuries,
Repent must have been drowning in oblivion,
He has been shouldering boulders of iron-clad sins

I see my Lord,
Kneeling in prayer in a garden not of Gethsemane
But in an oasis of poison ivy and dead waterlilies
Because His prayers ignore those that defile its holiness

And I saw my Lord once,
Holding His hands of calloused ardor,
Inside a bus, He was looking outside the window
Looking at children who are assaulted by bullets that billow

And lastly,
I see my Lord not writing scriptures,
But dictating them amongst men, men who are as lost as a lark,
With hope in their eyes, eyes filled with such clouds of stark spark.

But alas,
My Lord, where are you in the impasse?
I find you not with my vision, but with my brilliant heart,
A heart that seeks your touch, your touch of solemnity.

Yet this heart, in soliloquy,
Has slurred much in its speech,
For he is inebriated with such perplexity,
Because it still longs for your visage, with eyes to see.