There is no word

After Isaiah 6

There is no word

to describe his holiness

there is no word

sufficient to explain

the perfection of his holiness.

Instead of words we hide

his holiness within the wings

of seraphs, within the disguise

of smoke; from within the smoke

comes the live coal to burn

my lips and make me fit,

to hide my face in his presence,

to make me fit for use.

Without the coal, my seams

fray and separate as I atomize

into nothingness.

Photograph by Michael Drummond via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The land laid waste

After Isaiah 6

The land laid waste

the trees cut down

and left as stumps, charred

things pockmarking

the land, the stumps

remain as the seed

is planted and nurtured,

the seed sprouting

to give life, the stumps

remaining as stones

or remembrance.

Photograph by Ken Kistler via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

A visit to his house

After Isaiah 6

I went to his house,

my regular visit, not

expecting to see him,

because I’d never

seen him before, but

this time he was there,

a presence filling

the structure with light

and smoke and song

and in my terror at the sight

of him in his house,

a live coal, burning and

red, was placed

upon my lips, sufficient

to allow my presence

in the house filled

with light and smoke

and song.

The live coal was placed

on my lips, burning but not

consuming or damaging,

burning and cleaning,

an act of restoration,

making my lips sufficient

and proper, the authorized reason,

perhaps to tell the people

what they did not want to hear,

words that meant

   to heal blindness

   to cure deafness

   to soften hardness of hearts

   to be healed.

The words to be given

longer than necessary

until the live coal

that healed my lips also

heals the land

heals the hearts.

Photograph by Rajesh Misra via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.