Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Sitting, with pen

After Acts 1:1-8

The doctor sits, pen in hand,
hesitating before the emptiness
stretched in front of him. One
part completed, one part left.

He feels a small chill, as he
often does these days, this time
grown shorter. He pulls his cloak
closer, as the scroll beckons.

He begins this task set
before him, this work to be read
by only one, one friend and

he wonders if it will be shared
as the nib of the pen finally
touches the untouched scroll.

Part of this he knows himself,
part he does not, so he talks
he reads, he listens, he writes
letters to those who saw

although he ranks grow thin.

While he writes, Pompeii
is buried, Jerusalem falls,
emperors come and go, wisps
on an unforgiving wind

only the words last
only the words survive.

Illustration by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.


Doug Spurling said...

"Truly I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all things take place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away"

Not only read, but written, lived and died for, unto this day.

Thank you for echoing His Voice.

Sandra Heska King said...

"While he writes, Pompeii
is buried, Jerusalem falls . . . "

That gave me pause...

Mary Harwell Sayler said...

Powerful poem, Glynn! You should retire more often. :)

Jody Lee Collins said...

Watching 'A.D.' is fleshing out this gospel story more and more. I can see this as you write...the small band of faithful followers clinging to this invisible Jesus, faith in the future.
Powerful poem, Glynn.

diana said...

Oh, well done, Glynn. Thank you.