Dreaming aloud as the perplexing words
of the strange and mysterious God
dance to their unique rhythms;
catapulting into the prophet’s
conscious thoughts and out again.
Words, this time, of hope;
encouraging affirmations of renewal,
with the troubled times retreating
For the once great city
there is a promise of restoration,
of joy and delight; and of blessings
that will become for all an invitation to life.
Words of domestic contentment;
people dwelling in the houses
they have toiled hard to build,
and granted the greatest of all
signs of hope, the birth of a child.
The words continue their unconstrained dance
singing of enjoyment and satisfaction in old age;
and of planting vineyards with the expectation
of enjoying their fruit. “You plant grapes
for your grandchildren,”
a winegrower once told me.
The words dance crazily as they tell
of wolves and lambs feeding side by side,
and of lions and oxen
sharing the same bale of hay.
At this point we know that the dreaming
has taken over from reality,
and that what really counts
is the abiding presence of the God
who answers even before she is called.
© 2010 Ken Rookes
Another poem for this coming Sunday can be found here