Poem on Matthew 12.46-50

standing outside
giving Him space
we don't really belong
in that place
under His teaching?
He is our brother
all related
to the same mother.
the crowds see wisdom,
authority
but He's just Jesus
we used to climb the tree
in Galilee--
the middle of nowhere
regionally speaking:
not much there.
so lets wait out here
hands on our belts
while he makes his points
with somebody else.

sitting inside
I can't get enough
He's different
no hint of religious stuff
"Who are my mother and
who are my brothers?"
Jesus just asked
pointing at me
no better message
could possibly be.
its not eye color or hair or heredity
not blood in the vein,
but his blood for me.
that brings me close--
makes me family