Prophet

And the prophet said
I have a message of hope
I have a message of sorrow
I have a message of joy
Aren't you ready to listen?

And the people said
we do not want to hear hope
we do not want to feel sorrow
we do not want to bear joy
We are not ready for your words.

The prophet turned his back
walked into the wilderness
wandered for forty years
among the dust and the shadows
coming at last to land's end.

He stood on the shore and said
I have a message of hope
I have a message of joy
I have a message of sorrow
Aren't you ready to listen?

His words echoed in the dunes
and shouted to the heavens
and the mountains took up his cry
carried with the winds
of the cold north and warm south.

He walked into the ocean
He stood with the waves
lapping at his thighs
hungry tide pulling him
toward the darkness below.

He cried over the surf
I have a message of sorrow
I have a message of hope
I have a message of joy
Aren't you ready to listen?

His words were swallowed
by the endless blue
and green forever rolling
into the barren shore.
Sand covered his footprints.

He wrestled with himself
Is this what I was called for?
Is this all that I am?
Is this all that I will be?
Is there no one who will hear?

There in the white sand
black scorpion raised his poison.
He tracked the creature's movement.
He found his soul leaped
at the thought of silence.

All I have to do is stand
All I have to do is be still
All I have to do is shrug
He felt the breeze slow
he saw the waves stop.

The world spun around him
Joy is not in those who speak
Joy is in the ears that hear
Joy is in the hearts that sing
Joy is yet in this world.

It is morning once again.
The sky is endless clear.
Outside the pitiless city
the lonely prophet makes
his weary way back.

He stops for a drink
but he has nothing to eat.
A woman offers him figs.
She smiles at his blue eyes.
She listens to his words.

She listens.

Copyright 2006. All rights reserved.