Wonder....

I wonder why in the midst of the melancholy I don't hold onto all the worn photographs of Jesus. Its difficult sometimes too see him so human aging and leaning against the olive trees. Light and lakes where there enough for man made photographs while Jesus lived. Did he amuse himself looking at his image while sailing and catching fisherman? But I'm sure there were tears running down his beard and I long to know what his voice sounded like. Was it ruddy and deep or light and soft like illuminating candles waking up the velvet darkness. I dunno I forget how he can carry our hearts and hands and hold them up against the tide that swiftly moves against us. Next time I lift up my fingers tips to praise him I'll remember to think upon the pictures he's made of me and I of him. Love is a miracle. Light is a miracle. And I can only hope that this miracle is still making me.