Comfortable?

Was He in comforts of His home
or in a quiet place -
did He have friends supporting Him
or sleeping in disgrace?

Did a multitude, He have,
and did a riot start -
or did He stand in court alone
with still and quiet heart?

Did He turn His AC on
while in His leather seat -
or was the load too heavy for
His sore and dusty feet?

Did He have mega speakers that
impressed all of His peers -
or did He hear the insults that
had pierced His humble ears?

Did He have His favorite cocktails
or open soda cans -
or was He holding something else
in torn and painful hands?

New shoes are quite impressive for
the upper-class elite -
or were new shoes not needed with
a nail through His feet?

Did He have roses - vibrant red,
and crimson sky that warns -
or was the red that streaked His face,
from unforgiving thorns?

Did He receive great pleasures in
all He could consume -
or was He the great sacrifice
who laid inside a tomb?

The world cannot be bothered with,
these things that sound so grim -
but when we love our comforts so,
we can't give all to Him.

This poem was a finalist in the June 2011 poetry contest