The Face of Christ

One day last week after on a day of showers and sunny spells, my husband Steve rang me from Waitrose in the town centre. he told me to go outside at once to see the strange cloud that was hanging low over the town. He took a photo in case I missed it but I was thunderstruck by the weird shape. It started as though it was a tornado that might touch down but then it just hung there for quite a while. This poem is the result of me standing looking at it until after ages the image was slowly lost. Should you like the poem  please send a donation on my fundraising page.
www.justgiving.com/Daphne-Belt

The Face of Christ 

A heavy storm cloud formed over our town

At first glance just a thunder storm to come

My eyes squinted, my brow formed a frown

There was a split, a change closer to the ground

As it approached this huge cloud so glum. 

The mind is a funny thing and in the form I found

Incredibly, the face of Christ and no mistake

My jaw dropped and my eyes saucer round

An image so huge, so clear as to astound

My heart beat faster a deeper breathe intake. 

I couldn’t believe my eyes, my pulse in full thrumb

A smooth line forms the crown of His hair line

Long locks sweep down, a head of hair to become

Full beard wisps away and into nothingness succumb

The sad face looks down who turned water into wine. 

My eyes show my mind an image of Christ divine

The shape holds fast the image does not break

Whilst transfixed the face and eyes toward me incline

A fearsome sight either mine or fine design

An impression of heartache I cannot shake. 

Believe what you will but I know what I saw,

The man forced to wear thorns as a crown.

You may choose to accept or loudly guffaw

Yet still this image my soul won’t ignore

In our firm held beliefs we sink or swim or drown.