We will come and dwell

When I came and saw your home in Nazareth,
Where your dear mother lived by Joseph’s grave
In tranquil prosperity since his death,

I wondered why you would not choose to save
And guard this unexpected paradise.
It seemed so foolish to ignore the certain waves

Of politics and war, poverty and ice
And drought and parching heat that always rise
Despite our rosy schemes. No plans suffice

To guarantee security. Despise-
ing all precaution you abandoned kith
and kin and village to evangelize

an ancient world, already tainted with
the proffered blood of human sacrifice.
Could your bold retelling ancient myths

Persuade your co-religionists to splice
New ideas to prehistoric ways?
Often did you tangle with teachers of precise

Traditions, laws, and customs, but unfazed
Every man “went unto his own abode”
and no one saw the ending of his day.

The way you looked at me, I felt my load
of worries lightened on my back. I had
to drop everything and follow on the road,

because -- if for no other reason -- you bade
me come and see. Where this would lead I dared
not guess. A sudden, baffling urge -- so glad

My heart felt reassured I could be spared --
Set me toward an Eden far away
You called your home. You said your Father cared

And whatsoever we want, we need but pray,
And God will answer you. But I want more
Than I would dare to ask. Should I just lay

My common concerns at your most holy door?
Remembering that you harrowed the pits of hell
And sprang from death to life to give us more

Than we could ever dream, I am prepared to sell
My soul with everything on earth, for well
I’ve heard you say “With you we’ll come and dwell.”