Jesus was a Virgo

I need to go to Boston

I feel like I want to crack something open

A whole ice tray of feelings

The love, mostly

Keen and sharp like the winter wind

Whipping across from the Hancock Building

Eyes clenched to the sleet, inscrutable

And on the inside, a vast ocean of space

Driven by single purpose

Nothing I wouldn’t do for the Beloved

When Jesus was two years old

He already knew he belonged to the world

His life would be a gift to humankind

He had an unbroken umbilical

At two, my destiny was only a spark

Beginning its slow spiral

I was sixteen when I chose heart over head

If I had to choose

Not beauty or wit or surely sanity

I wonder if Jesus had a nickname as a child

Before he was called a prophet, a Lord, a Prince,

All those epithets that couldn’t contain him

Jesus must have made friends easily

Gathering his disciples around him like bees to clover

My only nicknames were cruel ones made by boys

Until college where the girls named me Slinky and Cat

But love always got in the way of friends

No bees, only outlaws who would be worshipped

Jesus was an outlaw, too

I probably would have loved him,

Would have pulled him down from the cross and taken his place

Like an idiot, or a saint

And my nickname would have been She Who …

I don’t know exactly, but not Slinky or Cat

Anyway, one thing to say –

Jesus wasn’t a Capricorn

I saw his birthday written in a tome

A book of secrets from an unlocked case 

September 9, was it?  September 6?

Anyway, it’s no surprise.

Jesus was a Virgo.