Coffee house Jesus. A poem.

you’d think the sky was falling the way

folks talk 

that Nietzsche’s right 

and god is dead

but i tell you the truth

He is alive

Alive!

In the coffee shop where I wrote all day and all around me for hours people met and sipped

soy lattes and I heard them

i HEARD 

they were talking about Jesus 

and He was there 

in the friends who embraced and 

the pastor who encouraged the sad man

and the smile of the hostess fresh back from a mission trip to Nicaragua with the nose ring like mine who served me my egg and Siracha sandwich

alive

Alive!

I SAW

Him 

there, downtown

and even the plumes of the Japanese lilacs lining the streets in front of falling down houses stretched toward Heaven 

alive

Alive!

just like the little patch of daisies outside 

my front door. 

  

“Again I resume the long
lesson: how small a thing
can be pleasing, how little
in this hard world it takes
to satisfy the mind 
and bring it to its rest.”
~Wendell Berry 

One thought on “Coffee house Jesus. A poem.

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