I had an opportunity to view a marvelous painting the other day titled O'
Jerusalem. It was beautiful, the artist is Greg K. Olsen. These words
seemed to come out of it to me... Please forgive me if this doesn't qualify
as a poem. ray

Through the streets of the city, I silently made my way. Past closed
doorways, and shuttered windows, thick walls offering the comfort of
protection to those within; some followers, some not, that's not important,
I'll do what I came to do.

The wall of the city is just ahead now, but I won't be gone long. Just
a little while, a time for relaxing, and reflecting about what has happened,
and will soon be.

I stumble a little as I start up the path. It has been packed like the
rocks on the side by so many sandaled feet.

It is so peaceful on this mount just before dawn. No crowds, no jeering
or cheering, no pushing or shoving. I found an outcropping that overlooks
the city, and sat to watch as the lightening of the sky brought life to my
Jerusalem. The sun rose, it was so beautiful.

I could see the colors of the robes, the blankets as they hung out.

Oh, how I love these, my people, my children, my sheep. They know not
what they need, what only I can give.

What I do, I do for all, no one is excluded. If only they could
understand the gift, but no matter. If there is the slightest chance, if
only one in each million reaches out to grasp my hand, it is worth all this.
Oh, that all would accept freely of my gift of life.

My friends, my children, down there below in my beautiful Jerusalem,
soon you will waken; if only you would awaken to the love that I and our
Father have for you.

You have heard my words, how long shall you remember them? How long
after I go will you remember me? Will you care for my mother? For I will
leave you soon, but the time will come that we shall again hold each other
and express our joy for the reunion.

Ah, Jerusalem, such a grand city now, golden in the morning sun. How I
love thee, yet must I weep for what you face.

Look for me to return, and as I set my foot on this Mount of Olives, it
shall split in twain, and you will know it is I who stands before you.

Now I must rise, to return once again to the city below. I spend what
time I may among those I love, for I do love you all.

[Even so do I now look upon the earth, and I weep, for I know what is to
come. Reach out thine hand, and I shall be there.]

Please enter an overall rating for this story