Jesus by James McAuley
Touching Ezekiel, his workman’s hand
Kindled the thick and thorny characters
And seraphim that seemed a thousand eyes
Flying leopards, wheels, and basilisks,
Creatures of power and judgement, soared
From his finger-point, emblazoning the skies.
Then turning from his book he rose and walked
Among the stones and beasts and flowers of earth;
They turned their muted faces to their Lord,
Their real faces, seen by God alone;
And people moved before him undisguised:
He thrust his speech among them like a sword.
And when a dove came to his hand,
He knew that hell was opening behind its wings.
He thanked the messenger and let it go;
Spoke to the dust, the fishes and the twelve
As if they understood him equally,
And told them nothing that they wished to know.