Greetje: New page: {{info}}The leather lap was smooth as moss
Where lay the little corpse across
The prophet's knees. And camel hair
Made cradle for the toddler there
While pagan relatives stood ...

Greetje — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 20:32:20 GMT

New page: {{info}}The leather lap was smooth as moss Where lay the little corpse across The prophet's knees. And camel hair Made cradle for the toddler there While pagan relatives stood ...

New page

{{info}}The leather lap was smooth as moss Where lay the little corpse across The prophet's knees. And camel hair Made cradle for the toddler there While pagan relatives stood by The mother's arm and wondered why Elijah wept. 

The widow's son, Her only child, had just begun To love the quiet man who spent His days in prayer, and sometimes went For weeks alone among the hills And mountains, where the silent rills Flow west to Zarephath — or used To flow, before the drought had bruised Phoenician fields and left its brown And barren wounds along the crown Of Lebanon. The little boy Had once let slip excessive joy And said, "Do you think you could stay And be my daddy here?" And they Now wondered why he wept? And why The sun had set and western sky Turned crimson while Elijah pressed A foreign child against his breast? But even if they knew that there Was love . . . that lonely prophets care, With leather skins and camel hair . . . That underneath, the losses tear As deeply as a father's grief — But even if there was belief, They would not know what had been pent Up in this many layered lament. Three times he had composed the verse, And every time the pain was worse. And now his memory combined Them all and drummed against his mind:
<blockquote>
A prophet suffers from the truth And miracles he made. And dies while he is still a youth, From prayers that he has prayed.
</blockquote><blockquote>
A prophet suffers from the truth And miracles he made. And dies while he is still a youth, From prayers that he has prayed.
</blockquote>
Round and round his mind the verse Rolled heavy like a deadly curse . . .
<blockquote>
Is not the hope of sinners dashed And those who spurn the Lord? Why is a faithful prophet slashed By wielding Yahweh's sword?
</blockquote>
He closed his eyes against the tears And thought back over all the years That he had kept himself from wrong, And day and night had sung the song Of David, that his heart would be As pure as snow. And suddenly God's word had sounded in the plains Of Gilead, against the stains Of Ahab king of Israel:

"Elijah, man of God, go tell The king there shall be neither dew Nor rain until you give the cue. How can the king of Israel Take to his bed a Jezebel From Sidon with her feeble Baal, And dig a fountain that will fail? Think you my spring of Life is out, O king? Then you will have your drought!"

And so Elijah gave the word. And his reward? The prayer was heard, And Ahab drove him out, to hide With neither food nor drink beside The brook of Cherith. There he sat Alone, afraid, and murmured at The price of faithful prophecy: "What does it profit here to speak The truth and die beside a creek?" But then God said, "You will not die. Consider how the ravens fly: Are they not free at my command To go and come from Ahab's land, And carry here bread, meat and all Through windows in the castle wall? And will I not then care for you? Consider now what I can do: Henceforth I make of your distress A banquet in the wilderness."

And so the prophet's murmurings Were quieted with raven wings . . . Until the brook went dry. And then Elijah groaned, "O Lord, how can A prophet die from prayers he prayed And miracles that he has made? At your command I shut the skies, And now the thirsty prophet dies?"

"You will not die," the Lord replied, "But go to Zarephath and hide. And find a widow there like you, Who waits to die. She's not a Jew, She has an only son in need, And oil enough and meal to feed The boy and her one time and die. Now go, and like a raven fly To Zarephath, and there you three Will live on what you cannot see."

And so the prophet's murmurings Were quieted, with unseen things . . . Until the boy lay dead upon Elijah's lap, the only son He might have had. "What have I done For this, O man of God? Is one More raven ready now?" she said, "And can it carry to the dead Live souls when they are gone, and bring Back life and make a mother sing?" The words were not as harsh as might Have been. She saw the gathering night Around his face and knew that he Had felt the loss as much as she.

When everyone had gone, she heard Him whispering: "Why bear the word? A prophet suffers from the truth, A prophet holds a lifeless youth. How short the life for which I prayed And brief the miracle I made."

And now a third time God replies, "Elijah, tell me, is it wise To think that every raven died, And every jar of oil has dried, And every time you hit the wall Your God is tottering to fall? O man of God, go up and pray."

Elijah took the child and lay Three times across the corpse and prayed All night: "O Lord, this child you've made; Have mercy now and give his breath Again, and spare the widow death On death. And pity me tonight."

And when Mt. Hermon let the light Of dawn shine through the upper room, It had become a second womb. Elijah took the breathing boy Alive, and folded him with joy Into his mother's robe, and took A long, long walk to think, and look Out on the western sea, and weep That he is loved and still could reap Such hope when everywhere is drought Without, and worse within: his doubt.

Elijah, come and let your light Shine here in candle one, For though it flicker low at night, It rises like the sun.

And though the darkness and the dearth May threaten life and light, Remember God still rules the earth, And ravens fly at night.

Elijah, Part 1 - Revision history

Greetje: New page: {{info}}The leather lap was smooth as mossWhere lay the little corpse acrossThe prophet's knees. And camel hairMade cradle for the toddler thereWhile pagan relatives stood ...

Greetje: New page: {{info}}The leather lap was smooth as moss
Where lay the little corpse across
The prophet's knees. And camel hair
Made cradle for the toddler there
While pagan relatives stood ...