If Jesus Lived

 

​(Cameo Condo Complex)

 

If Jesus lived in my condo complex—

a sanctuary of slow miracles,

a suddenness, ultimately assured death.

A kingdom of 55 years and up.

He’d see colorful collections of canes,

walkers, and wheelchairs in transit—

Journeys as long as nights

to the trash containers or a laundry room.

He’d wear polka-dot pajamas,

day after day, night after night.

Unhurried with blessings,

even while chatting amiably with board members.

Or while strolling to those board meetings.

Afterward, he’d linger in the hallway—

miracles measured in minutes—

holding the elevator, again, & again,

for anyone in need of a little resurrection.