Hidden in Plain Sight



Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.  And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.  Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him.  They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.  Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.  Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah" — not knowing what he said.  While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud.  Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen listen to him!"  When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
            On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him.  Just then a man from the crowd shouted, "Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child.  Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him.  I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not."  Jesus answered, "You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here."  While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father.  And all were astounded at the greatness of God.
- Luke 9:28-32

 

You the Easter egg
gingerly hidden in plain sight as playful revelation
once glowing on crisp air mountaintop
now seen in dank gory warfare trenches
bloody hands laboring for immigrant dinners
stupefied whiskey winners standing on desperate penthouse ledges
yearning to be revealed in every moment’s existential dread
will anyone look behind the wispy curtain in every room and field
and see your lighted bittersweet face,
sentinel as a distant lighthouse
to the unbounded love
in each bounded, woeful, brilliant life

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