The Crucible and the Flame

They said you walked through these very streets...
now as I close my eyes  -  I can almost hear the sounds ...
the children playing, the dogs barking...the muffled voices in the marketplace.

A dusty blanket seems to cover the village,  like a light-brown cellophane,
riding the breeze from one end of town to the other.
I seem to leave no footprints behind as I walk up the hill...
...the hill where they say you still hang from a tree.

I find myself following a small crowd as they appear to know where they go,
it is then that I see you...
still hanging from the cross...
motionless...still...
and yet....

The old lady whispers to me that he was the son of Mary and Joseph,
she is quick to follow that he is the Promised One..
I stare upon His Face once again....
only this time,
something is different...

Like a Flame that has harnessed my Heart...
burning... the pride, the hatred...the selfish lusts...the fears born of ignorance...
removing the dross to expose the priceless ore...
this crucible,
this all consuming Flame that devours my doubt -
as I watch your Face...

I hear cries and weeping all around me...
the soldiers begin to scream and shout ,
chasing the crowds away for another day.

I hear a soldier say aloud to his comrade,
"is He truly the Savior of the World"?

Walking with the small crowd to the village,
I pause and glance back up the hill...
expecting that you may not still be there...
no...hopeful notions are put to rest...you are still there...

...and yet I know that you will not tarry long there...
as your work is just beginning to bear fruit...

Here....here amongst this very crowd....this town...these cities...
Yes...you have shared the Flame of Love with all that will hear...

and to us,
let us bear your message in our hearts...
for eternity.