When Anno Domini was a baby,
Was when a man with charisma,
Emerged, and became a tall lighthouse,
To storm- ravaged hulls. And that man Jesus,
Went to become a party pooper,
Playing lamb on top of the skullcap mountain,
A place called Golgotha.
A man who stood in the rain, barely clothed,
Nailed to a cross, asking God to intervene and save him.
And God did, crashing the after-party,
Silently whispering one word, Abracadabra.
How God with his magician hat on,
Did a trick, what 1700 years afterwards
Would be known as the “Houdini”.
Empathy can be a little explosion of a conscience,
How in this world rocked by thousands
Of bombs, all it takes to be empathetic, is to burst,
The bubble and extend an olive branch,
To those whose lives persist holding
A bottle of cheap alcohol or some pituri,
While rubbing sandpaper on walls of history,
To start over with a clean slate, to sledgehammer
The prisons that kept those people,
Inside racially-profiled green miles.
How an aboriginal man has the same IQ,
The same EQ, the same enamel on his teeth,
The same wrists that will hold a woman and a surfboard alike,
And surfing another is what unites us all,
A tradition called love, without realizing,
There is the interface-less types of love too.
How empathy began at home, in the kitchen, on a cutting board.
How mommy’s little helper, 21 years later,
Carried empathy inside a winged Russian-built cargo plane,
On air-spaces belonging to the Turks or Kurds,
Throwing airdrops at migrating refugees.
The cargo of real empathy,
Is the contraband of the conscience,
And the world’s worst kept secret.
How we are all just one act away,
From being the good Samaritan near the well.
How we transcend ethnicities, skin-tones
And religions, to muster enough courage to give,
With no gain or agenda. Empathy doesn’t
Require queuing up for bread chips and red wine,
Only opening our hearts, like daffodil blooms.
How in the 21st century, Zaccheaus could easily be
A poor aboriginal man, with whom
You share a happy meal with, knowing
That empathy flares up easier than a match stick.
And one day, like the tall Eucalyptus trees,
Will the good Samaritans stand,
In word and deed, knowing that they can now,
Squeeze headfirst, through the eye of a needle,
Easier than any dromedary camel,
At the center of Alice Springs.