His sinking body’s breathing for a breath,
his soul a feather floating toward the sky.
The feverish child’s not there to question why
his parents weigh the likelihood of death.
Inside the temple with ascending stairs,
there are three kings who sit on golden chairs.
The Father’s counting on the Son who’s wise
to heal his children; open up their eyes.
His blood is crimson on the earthen floors.
It stains the archways of the hallway doors.
His mom asks God for angels on the bells
as orchestras and choirs take their place
to send the evil spirit back to Hell.
The boy (who lived!) sees God in every face.