Old Dry Bones in a Modern City
I lie in this my city bleak, abandoned, desolate
The crumbling rot of grandeur past with no one left to care,
Repeating the same, repeating the same, repeat of mistakes of before
This burden grinding me to dust is more than I can bear.
We the husks who pile the streets are children of the Dead
Our fathers' fathers' fathers were rejectors of the Breath;
We keep the new commandments, cast off the ancient ways,
We sing the hymn our fathers sang, the rattling dirge of death:
"A little lie, a little cheat, a little death and blood-
For this he turned his face away and so he forced our hand.
Not just the nose, but all our parts cut off to spite his face
We scoured our bones clean of flesh with flint and desert sand.
And where was he when we were killed
Our flesh consumed by gas and fire?
The best of us, the good, the skilled
Lie immolated on the pyre.
Thus having stripped our bodies bare of all that made us weak
And having made revenge on god consuming all our good;
We lie down in our open graves, no eyes to shed our tears,
Our flint knives have replaced our hearts, our ears we stop with wood."
Can they live?
You know Lord.
A Man steps in, a fleshly man, with meat, and sweat, and blood
His life and joy revolting here to us the wholly pure
"He's talking to himself," I mock, "Let's help him on his way!"
Our jeers and insults rattle as he prepares the Holy Cure.
He lifts his hands in blessing and sets out a plate and cup;
The ground beneath us trembles at the Word proceeding out,
As water cracks the stone and floods the filthy dried up streets
And rushes from the altar cleansing everything about.
It mingles with the dust, and forming mud begins to flow,
It rushes like bride to lover- bone to bone and flesh to flesh.
My hands begin to tremble as my body here is formed,
The streets and city round me, dripping clean and new and fresh.
But who am I that I should live
Or God should be my Lord and King?
My wretched flinty heart I give
That with it, glory you might bring.
I stand, immobile living, yet not living without breath.
A voice like rushing wind or fire beats against my nose
"May I come in and welcome you?" It whispers in my ears,
My chest constricts with spasms quick as breath within me flows.
The Olive, the Wheat, and the Grapevine
The Fish, and the Lamb, and the Dove
The rods that have come out of Jesse
Are made one at the foot of the cross
North and South-
The Kingdoms shall be one.
East and West-
The Churches shall be one.
Jew and Gentile-
My People shall be One.
So you shall be my people
And I shall be your God.
