Somewhere Near Damascus Poem by James Tipp

Jesus! Carpenter! Chosen One!
Like brands of fire these words crease my mind.
The utter blasphemy, the sheer horror, proclaimed by fisherman
Common folk and no doubt their women, unclean vermin.
How dare they even speak of Him ‘the Holy one of Israel’.
They whose minds are never lifted higher than the gutters
In which they live.
We who know the facts must purge the city, our homes even our synagogues, of those who proclaim ‘The Way’ and this charlatan, this miscreant as;
No I cannot bring myself to even think of such Blasphemy.
I will be the one who brings the cleansing to my people;
Seek those who infest the purity of our race in Jerusalem or wherever.
Damascus! The infection has spread like a putrid boil, like a raging pox; but I shall cleans the whole like a surgeon, I shall remove the sores.
“Saul! Saul! ”
What Trick of light is this? The heat burning my eyes, my mind
“Saul! Saul! ”
That voice again, who speaks to me in my sickness? Which of my companions lends a hand?
What is this?
A pierced hand!
Whose face is this?
But your are dead!
“Saul, Saul why do you persecute me? ”
Can I be so wrong?
A Carpenter, a crucified carpenter, a risen crucified carpenter!
Who are you Lord?
The gentiles, barbarians, the world
Teach me Lord send me.