Sunday, April 24, 2011

What You Give You Keep - NaPoWriMo 24/30


Some have trouble keeping their promises.
Some are subject to mouths
that machine-gun
the ammo of good intentions,
swearing the moon
with hands full of soil.
Some assure the sunshine
even as their words
fall frozen on Pluto.
Some have trouble keeping their promises,
but not You.
You, the embodiment of a good word given.
As apostolic lips garnered bile
in Gethsemane,
christened glistening leaves with
a beloved’s treachery,
You succumbed to persecution
and fulfilled prognostication.

The blood that dappled your brow,
a vow in moonlit crimson,
each spot upon your englaimed skin
a promise of God’s Tanakh.
Those scarlet beads that led
to streams and pools at Pilate’s bidding,
Your ravaged countenance atop
Your cross-exalted form,
You, the Isaiah-spoke
unbroken Pesakh lamb,
the walking covenant of God,
crushed in keeping every law.
You perished in perdition
and fulfilled prognostication.

Some have trouble keeping their promises,
but not You,
rising from your Sabbath
as a reconstructed temple, 2 days
departed from that rabble-demolished rubble,
not You.
You swore me the sunshine with eyes full of fire,
You promised me the moon with hair agleam with pallor.
You promised me the moon
and beneath its notary seal
yawned the hollow of a tomb,
lunar full as You fulfilled
each eager word in waking.
Some have trouble keeping their promises.
Some have speech longer than their reach,
but not You.
No, as You bodily strode the graven law
and wore the thorns, scorned and raw,
to rise anew from Hades’ maw –
No,
never You.

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