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.

First he loved

After I John 4:7-12

First he loved

me, the disciple whom

he loved, so much

that even when I’m

an old man, sitting on

a rock, staring out

at the sea when I’m

not having visions,

everything falls away,

fading before the memory

of his love, the reality

of his love, the presence

of his love.

It was, it is, it will be.

That’s how he loved –

a look, a touch, a word,

a laugh, a cry, he breathed it

even as he breathed

his final gasp of air

a final grasp of his hand

a final glance toward

us gathered in the dirt

before him. At that moment

his love was finished,

his love was begun.

Photograph by Jacob Meyer via Unsplash. Used with permission.

They come together

After Acts 4:23-31

They come together,

and hear, and speak

unplanned, unscripted

words, going up fastened

to hearts and souls.

The words speak first

to creation, origins,

the beginning of all

things ordained,

things ordered,

to overwhelm darkness,

void without form,

shaped into creation.

This is the point

at which we start, praying

for boldness, for signs

and wonders.

The prayer ends,

sound begins,

room shakes,

ground moves,

souls fill, words

are spoken

boldly.

Photograph by Ron Carlson via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The Parable of the Right and the Left

The right, she asks,

and the left, she asks,

a question engendering

a question. Can you, he

asks, can you drink

this cup, he asks.

Of course, of course, of course

we can. Sadness of the ages

crowds his eyes, and

something else. You will,

he says, you will drink

this cup, he says.

On the hill that day

I looked to his left, I looked

to his right, understanding

only then what we had asked,

knowing only then what

cup he drank for us.

The old man hears the wind

The wind rustles outside this cave,

keening of what is done, what is past,

and of all the whispers it sings

into my ears, it is Salome’s voice,

the voice of our mother, whose words

we knew before we were, her voice,

the wife of Zebedee, pleading

we be placed on left and on the right,

seeking advantage over the others,

desiring position we did not deserve.

He said she knew not what she asked,

and I see two thieves on a hill, escorts

unto death, one on the left and one

on the right; I think of my brother

run through with the sword of the man

whose relation, the other Salome,

danced for the head of the other John.

I hear the wind on this wretched rock

and I know myself to be the one

he loved, loved even to the death.

This poem is submitted for the Poetics prompt at dVerse poets, imagining yourself to be “the other.” To see more poems submitted, please visit dVerse Poets.

Painting: Fresco of St. John on Patmos by Giotto (1320), Santa Croce, Florence.

Anticipation or Punctuation

Perhaps Isaiah anticipates
John on the isle of Patmos, or
perhaps John punctuates
Isaiah in the city of David, as
the temple fills with smoke,
the temple shakes with presence,
the presence terrifies unclean lips,
coals burning touched to lips,
searing, scouring, purifying,
sanctifying the preparation
necessary for the purpose.
For unto us is born,
to the seven churches born,
and his name shall be, is.

One hears a verse from Isaiah
quoted in a sermon;
it becomes a revelation.