Rosto de Jesus

Every time I read the gospels about the life of my Savior
I wonder what the blessed face of my beloved Lord would look like
He wasn't handsome, the prophet said, a man who suffered and worked hard
Like a root in thirsty soil that humanity never valued

His calloused hands from carpentry, his feet worn from walking
Skin burned by the desert sun, his deep eyes never at rest
But his words inspired tenderness, his voice, his gaze overflowed with love
One day I’ll see, not with the eyes of faith, I’ll see face to face how my Lord is