The tambourine man

After Isaiah 24

The tambourine man played

his song, and his songs,

jangling our ears and eyes

with his music, until he slowed

and stopped, dropping his tambourine

to the floor. He looked at us

in surprise, in pain, as if he had

forgotten the notes and the words,

music sliding from his memory

and ours until only silence

remained.

Photograph by Lilla Frerichs via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

At first I didn't notice

After Isaiah 24

At first I didn’t notice

the differences, the changes

slight, a lightening of color,

a mall cooling, but as

I watched the stage

the scenery began to melt,

sliding and flowing around

the actors’ feet and cascading

downward at the edge of the stage.

The actors began to forget

their lines and soon made no sense,

desperate words bleeding into

one another like stones soon dulled.

The music faltered then stopped,

collapsing into a cacophony

of jarring sounds, like musicians

and instruments sliding as the Titanic tilted

and prepared to break apart. People

are shouting at the actors who turn

to the audience and say nothing.

The theater trembles and breaks apart.

The lights fail, only darkness and explosions

of noise remain, the only constants.

Photograph by Kondo Yukihiro via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

I walk a hallway

After Isaiah 24

I walk a hallway of many doors

I walk a forest of many trails

a land of many highways and roads

until, overwhelmed by choice,

I choose: not knowing

where it leads, only knowing

that the choice is irrevocable,

return not a possibility

except in memory and regret

a door opens

a path is chosen

a road is traveled

only the going forward

matters.

Photograph by Maliz Ong via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.