Alone

After Isaiah 1

To stand on temple steps

or in the street, and speak

what no one wants to hear

in fact, what will create

anger and spite and rejection

and rage and reprisal,

is to write the biography

of the prophet, alone,

no one standing nearby,

no one nodding, alone,

no one lending a sympathetic ear,

alone, watching the crowd

pick up stones.

Photograph by Dawn Hudson via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The red, gold, and brown

After Isaiah 1

The red, gold, and brown

a disguise, a preparation

and announcement of the fall

of the oak in the garden

unwatered, parched, prepared

to shed its life and thrust

stark limbs in supplication

to the sky, gnarled hands

grasping for the life dying

below the ground.

The leaves descend into mounds

of tinder, ready for a spark,

any spark, of any type or kind

or source, to begin the consumption

to start a fire, predicted

but long denied.

Eager voices:

   what do we do

   tell us

And the prophet smiled

in anticipation:

   don’t do wrong

     do right – you can learn this

   desire and search for justice

     you can embrace this

   encourage the downtrodden

     you can ease their chains, their pains

   defend the orphan

    who has no defense

   plead for the widow

     without an advocate

Voices, no longer eager:

   muttering

   scoffing

   rejecting

   moving away in a cloud of murmurs

Photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.