by Susan Dunn
February 27, 2001

The Chosen One

We all,

Our feet suspended,

Brought him gifts

As he knelt naked and alone,

Before the tree of life he had grown

From which we had plucked

The fruit and flowers

We brought him,

As pointless as

Gold & frankincense & myrrh

For the son of God.

What did we think was suspending our feet?

He gazed at us

After he placed the fruit back on the tree

Now the tree of death

And wondered what it was exactly

That he had been chosen for.