they spend too much time with the tares
(He said "can't be uprooted," not "should be saluted")
and it were easier for columbus to find Asia
or an idiot with two hands to find his ass in daylight,
or frequent as the Equinox, or worse,
as common as crossing the Equator
(for a Southerner heading to Detroit or Chicago,
full of rue and loaded with sweaters as if for winter)
to find them, the three Magi,
albeit travelling separately under three different stars,
(the Christ child the searcher in this story)
fighting Satan, healing wounds, making bread,
bringing peace and bandage to the Africa within us,
or sowing the seed of the kingdom of goodwill
on the rocks of our Gibraltar
(they are my friends, what else would they do?)
or traveling to Canada, as BFB told me when he called,
but that's alright: for the prodigal son has still not called back,
and the one longing for their company is mostly "all back"
to the sight of another wedding chamber watcher,
and thus one good parable deserves another:
be tending, for i come as a thief of mercy
to a world that is drowning in riches while thirsty,
bringing the drying of tears and eyes
(if not the swallowing of death in victory)
with a fire for the tares for burning
in the dark night of my calling
"MARANTHA"
i will come for you, quickly,
as wondrously and rarely,
as you come for me.
