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
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