Reading about the dedication of the temple, that is inspiring... let's try it!
The indigo linen laid like ocean waves
across the amber colored bronze
in the air was the smell of blood
death, a ghostly bleeting in their ears
a heady incense burned and wafted
a merciful respite from their remembered sins
quiet. do you hear their breathing?
the heaving and swelling of chest crowded
one next to another, hands out like beggars
Mercy please! A sudden brassy blast
of trumpets. Not the sharp, sudden burst of
today's but the long bellowing of a far away
God coming near to hear, see and inhabit His home.
Solomon raises his hands and bows
the nation does the same, waves of people kneeling
hungry for hope. Smell the cedar freshly hewn,
its soft ambiguos splinters shrouded in a golden veil
A young, wise voice is heard. He beseeches their God
humbly reminding the Lord, "My father was David!"
Begging for the mercy his people craved, Solomon
cries out, hands raised, "Listen to us in this place."
Listen He does, and with a grateful fury decending
the fire that will not die consumes the flesh of sacrifice
leaving a feast of celebration behind, an aroma that promises
a ceasing of their hunger. The Lord is here!
The Lord is here! they dance. He has heard our prayers!
they rejoice in gladness, days of gladness.
Feasting on a meal prepared by the hand of God
they eat and are satisfied. A herd of sheep
much happier to devour the Lamb than follow him.
No comments:
Post a Comment