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Jan Wood

I write poetry to find out how I think. It is a constant surprise and I thank God for this strange way of discovering myself and deeping my faith. Sometimes I am thrust into the desert alone with my faith and I draw comfort from Abraham's story. I feel like a fellow traveller and find it difficult to leave the post-Babel nations or notions and begin a pilgrimage. For some reason, I wanted the challenge of writing this piece using the sun as the antagonist and the darkness protagonist. I also wanted to incorporate the idea of old seeds transplanted to produce new fruit.

How Abram and I Moved From Ur

               Ur, an opulent strawberry field
               rooted in Babylon
               We, mere seeds of contentment
               in the pre-dawn

Saffron fingers caressed laden stems
massaged dewy-secrets
the day star demanded succulence,
fresh fruit in its burning basket.
Tender vines sun-stroked
sought refuge under leaf shadow.
               We green and afraid of its hunger
               clung tightly to familiar flesh
               beneath a juice stained sky.

Heat, a phoenix, swelled in power
searched its carnage
devoured limp red carcasses.
We, embryonic sheep in wolf-guise
bared black seed fangs
under sun's dentures.
               Became cursed irritants,
               spit out into spirit wind
               destined for holier ground.

Satiated-sun, now throne-high
mocked us in garish greens,
challenged storm-scrolls of royal velvet.
Immersed in God-defying ambition
it dismissed the idea of covenants
under greater authority.
               Seed-comatose we felt the darkness
               draw close, eclipse the usurper,
               rain down hope and power.

Awakened to the promise
of a milk-n-honey adventure
we clung tenaciously to goat skins
were borne along the desert's edge.
We laid our first fruits
on altars of sacrifice
under the oaks of Mamre.

Copyright ©2006 by Jan Wood