Where is Bob Dylan?
Anyone to feel,
Anyone to imagine,
Anyone with strong words?
Young Eliot in the doorway,
But he will not take the step.
And we are the same,
Except lacking such daring imagination.
We repress the calling Christ,
Our disturbing Messiah.
We are uneasy and harassed,
But we pretend security.
Will we find our way?
The End
Is always coming because we don’t learn our lesson.
And in our end will a prophet come?
Will anyone prophesy our destruction
And offer a new beginning?
Is Moses among us?
Will anyone imagine something better?
And true peace is always offered
And this is for our Return.
The sword comes
Because what we think is life is death.
What we think is God is our own order,
Our own arrangement of things.
But in our end, Ezekiel offers resurrection.
Jesus feeds dry bones his own blood and flesh.
We must decide
We must leave our nets and follow
Leave my father in the boat
Leave my dead father.
We must bear fruit.
Please, let figs grow
Give us figs for our Lord.
Otherwise we will be cursed forever.
Otherwise we will be cast into the sea.
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2 comments:
Wow: "We repress the calling Christ,
Our disturbing Messiah."
And wow: "But in our end, Ezekiel offers resurrection.
Jesus feeds dry bones his own blood and flesh."
I especially love the second half of the poem. There's some really powerful imagery and biblical allusion. I really like this poem, J.
Beautiful. But that does not sound like a 2001. More like a 2004.
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