Curious Christian

The Eyes of Jesus by John O’Donohue

I imagine the eyes of Jesus were harvest brown,
the light of their gazing suffused with the seasons:
the shadow of winter
the mind of spring
the blues of summer
and amber of harvest.

A gaze that is perfect sister
to the kindness that dwells in his beautiful hands.

The eyes of Jesus gaze on us,
stirring in the heart’s clay the confidence of seasons
that never lose their way to harvest.

This gaze knows the signature of our heartbeat,
the first glimmer from the dawn that dreamed our minds,
the crevices where thoughts grow
long before the longing in the bone sends them to the mind’s eye,
the artistry of the emptiness that knows to slow the hunger
of outside things until they weave into the twilight side of the heart.

A gaze full of all that is still future
looking out for us to glimpse the jewelled light of winter stone.
quickening the eyes that look at us to see through
to where words are blind to say that we would love.

Forever falling softly on our faces,
his gaze piles the soul with light,
laying down luminous layer beneath our brief and brittle days

until the appointed harvest comes assured and harvest left
to unravel the last black knot
and we are back home in the house we never left.