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.
