If He stood on the mountain there

The wind would blow more in His hair

Than mine, for the joy of being there.

If He walked on the mountain

The Earth and wind would cry

“Remember when You died, how we lashed out

Our fury in the sky?”

If He came down the mountain

And met me here what could I say?

“I too wept your death, that day

But Ah! It was so long ago.”

Would He smile or would His frown reflect my own

Deep down