Harvest

For there was a nostalgia in the darkness...
B.H. Fairchild, "A Man in a Machine Shop"

I read these words from Psalm 105, Twenty-first day: Morning Prayer - 
36 He struck down the firstborn of their land,
the firstfruits of all their strength.

I usually read with the grafted-in-eyes of those delivered. But on this day I tried to imagine myself an aged Egyptian father...

~~~
I mumble godless prayers most days - 
Let evening come.  Let evening come.
For only in shadow can I see my son's face,
sunlight thieves my memory.
The horse and rider he hath thrown into the sea;
they were the fortunate fathers.
But me?  I was left to wander grief's shore.

She carried other sons after him,
but he was my strength, my might, my first.
Many years I struck back at the hebrew deity,
cursing a god I could not see.
But no more.  
I am old and tired;
only the sadness remains.

His people are long gone now, 
as are the locusts and the hail.
Still, I continually seek his face.
The great Nile calls my name,
so on feeble legs I slip beneath the surface of time.
My faith?  A millstone
and the undertow of memory.









5 comments:

  1. I've been guilty of reading a passage or 50 and moving on too quickly.

    You give me pause to consider.

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  2. Now a days, many of us are trying to read Scripture as we eat. Choosing the "power bar" over an actual meal...the difference is obvious in the way we allow it to impact us.

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  3. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  4. A few days ago (after your last post) I realized that you are my favorite author! I had an impulse to let you know at the time, but I let the feeling pass. Now, however, it's official: On SparkPeople I just answered a questionnaire item by naming you as my favorite author (and leaving a link to your blog.) I hope that's ok with you.

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  5. MarieDee,

    My goodness - thank you very much. I appreciate your words and yes, leaving the link to my blog is o.k. with me.

    Grace,
    John

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