Sunday, July 8, 2018

On this rock

After Revelation 1

He sits on his rock
in the sun, remembering
the voice, and voices,
the day the blood ran
and the nails pounded.
He remembers the walks
and trips, the night
in the garden, the day
on the hill when the sky
cracked, stopping time.

He feels his bones and joints,
creaking, he sees the spots
on his hands, the gray
in his hair and beard.
The reports have come,
the reports of the others,
all gone before him, even
many of the ones after
him gone. It is the end
of his own life, full,
blessed, shaped, guided,
directed, and when he thinks
the time, his time, is finished,
the dreams come, the words
return, veils are torn away,
a revelation given.

Banished, yes, cut away
from the familiar, from
the smiles, abandoned
to be alone, to die alone,
except for one last act,
one final service, to tell
the story of the end.
When it is finished,
he will sleep in his cave,
his grave, and he knows
it is good.

Photograph by Bank Phrom via Unsplash. Used with permission.

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