Dead Face of Jesus by
John W Frye
By the casket I stand Looking at the dead face- Face of a dear friend. Gently touching the face Slams me with death’s reality;
A face cold, hard in death’s way.
The dead face of Jesus. How many saw that face? A few touched it; Mary most of all I’d think. Scoffers, soldiers, few friends,
Joseph and Nicodemas saw it.
Catholics, Anglicans, Orthodox See his dead face more than most. And I think they learn, Know something many of us don’t. Something about dreadful coldness,
Something about our last enemy.
Look at the camera, Jesus. Smile. That’s my vision of his face. Don’t go cold on me, Jesus. I need your warm face all the time. I only want your happy face.
I need to stay in denial.
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