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Poetry

Whispers, Scrolls
Donatello, Prophet with Scroll

Blessed be the apraxic herald,
the battered handle of heaven’s rasp.
Afflicted physician, anointed thistle.
Tattered tent pitched amidst the palaces.
For he who sees will see the nations
float like chaff above a shepherd’s cookfire;
he who hears will flee wild dogs and whispers
and wake to the creak of the potter’s wheel.
Yet his hands will gather the fallen clay
and unseal the scrolls stretching to Sheol,
where it is written: in your abandonment
you are beloved; in exile you are saved.

 


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