He makes a choice

After Hebrews 11:24-27 

He had a choice

to be known by

his adopted name,

his position and

title, or to embrace

his lowly, enslaved

birth, to choose

the way of ease and

wealth, or the way

of the slave, toil

and hardship and

persecution.

He knew the cost.

Did he surprise

himself when he

chose the harder,

wiser way?

 

Photograph by Jon Tyson via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

On Lies and Liars: A Double (Petrarchan) Sonnet – James Tweedie at Society of Classical Poets.

 

Birds That Alight on Faith – poem by Claude Wilkinson at Kingdom Poets (D.S. Martin). 

 

Greek to Us: The Death of Classical Education & Its Consequences – Christian Kopff at The Imaginative Conservative. 

 

The time comes

After Hebrews 11:23-27

The time comes when the sand

burns in purity; I walk barefoot

without scorching my feet.

The time comes when the bush

burns in righteousness

without being consumed.

The time comes when God

walks and I hide my face away,

until I can see only his back.

The time comes when I

see God and die to what is now

but not die to what will be.

Photograph by Paul Brennan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Times for choosing

After Hebrews 11:23-27

I grow up and know

that I am and am not son

and slave simultaneously,

that the time has come

when I must choose one

or the other,

the pinnacle of power

or the depths of the dregs.

I choose the harder way

why I cannot really say

except it is

who I was

who I am

who I must be

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Burning bush

Artist, dressed in a shroud,

shoes removed, carries

a burning bush; illuminates

a forest consumed by flame,

the hiding places and denials

of dark woods exposed. And so

becomes a narrator,

a storyteller, a light bearer,

a commandment carrier;

opens eyes but first

his own. Cannot look full

into the face. Only a partial view

from the back allowed.

or else death. The ground hot,

holy.

Illustration: Man the Forest by Anselm Kiefer (1971), private collection, San Francisco. This was one of the paintings included in the Anselm Kiefer exhibition at the Royal Academy of Art in London this past fall.

Standing in presence

Standing in presence

there is heaviness, abounding;

I turn, slightly, toward

the neon light but turn back,

the reality of what’s before

me overwhelming. To see

the face is fatal, even to see

the back is searing, bleaching

my face, my hair, my soul

as I hide in this cleft. Even

my breath is scorched.

Photograph by Junior Libby via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Son of Nun

I am Son of Nun, Joshua. I serve

the most high by serving

the servant. It is my call to serve

the servant. Voices awaken me

before the dawn; I do not

understand the cloud, not yet,

although I know its composition,

its essence, its ability to sear

the soul. I stand outside

its envelope; I bow at the tent door,

facing outward, facing away.

It is my service to face away; I am

a spear, a sword, a shield. The cloud

is next to me; I hear the murmuring

of the voice. The cloud is behind me,

embracing the servant. I dare not fix

my gaze upon it,

on its brilliance.

Photograph by Sheila Dane via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Within the cloud

I walk within as the cloud

descends, cocooning me even

as it strips me naked, bare,

permeating my mind, my heart,

my soul. Only then does the voice

speak. I ask no questions.

The voice continues until

it is finished,

the stream ceasing

until the next time. The cloud lifts.

I walk away, refreshed

and exhausted.

Photograph by Lisa Runnels via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.