The neon-light Jesus
glows large
on the top of the hill
with his co-luminaries,
mystifying a select audience.
Not for general exhibition.

Just a flash
before the cloud is lowered
and the divine voice-over. 

Later, on another hill,
the curtain is lifted for ever
on a black silhouette;
arms outstretched
against a darkened sky.


 © Ken Rookes

A short liittle poem, written some years ago, but a favourite. Enjoy!


2 thoughts on “Transfiguration

  1. Pingback: Six days later | poemsinseason

  2. Pingback: His face shone like the sun | poemsinseason

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