Gone from your barren womb, a rock hewn by human hands
the soul abandoned for voices promising all in the promised land
Collateral sacrifice, yet another dead son.
Why go to the wilderness Where your child has no home?
Is he Isaac to your Abraham?
A test for the chosen?
You retreated to comfort zones While he wept at closed gates
for his wretched integrity, your child, the apostate.
A child that now stumbles, bringing seas that will swallow you
your detachment, ice heart, ignorance and platitudes.
and your prayers will have saved no-one
Words rarely save anyone.
But this rock holds your keys, secret names and handshakes.
He is your judge, the least of these, your namesake.
Flesh of your flesh, he is the offering gelded,
its scent and your prayer, both acrid and canted,
because love divines truths that minds don't comprehend
and no spirit of charity creates the forsaken.
About Me
- Elizabeth Manuel
- Yorkshire, United Kingdom
- Born Elizabeth Maiden, one of four children, I have written poetry since the age of fourteen, although it didn't occur to me till recently to save or share the things I wrote as I never imagined as a young adult that I I would ever want to share my deepest thoughts with anyone. Now I keep my poems as a sort of shorthand diary of key moments from my life. My hope is that other 'poets' might derive some pleasure and comfort from mutual recognition of feeling expressed here.
No comments:
Post a Comment