My herbivore teeth ruminate
On the sacred elephant.
Bite and chew, the juices make
But bit by bit, bite by bite,
The portions remaining shrink,
I lift my head in daylight
Because it’s not about what I think,
But whether I choose to chew.
Tasked with repairing a home
Touched by elements of decay,
Standing crooked on ancient bones,
Half exhausted and rotted away
And wired wrong- too much
May spark eruption
A roof that crumbles at the touch:
A constant threat of corruption
And who cares for the old
in the face of the new?
I fill the cracks, pull off the vines,
Whispering, “”I believe You.”
How can I hold back the hands of time?
But death, but life, remain Your purview.
I begin to sense my anguish
Spreads beyond the disrepair
Were every inch refurbished,
And the holy calling spared
Wouldn’t I still be too old, too broken, to fulfill any purpose there?
I am the house; it is me.
Our fate is linked by common trust;
No promise of return, and costly,
And who would choose to build that up?
We both sit abandoned, irreparable,
But for the hope of Your activity-
I may not see how it’s accomplishable,
But I’ve glimpsed Your creativity,
And I know You resurrect beauty from the ashes-
You are ever victorious:
Calling forth the diminished
Into the Glorious
By Your Fiat.
“’The latter glory of this house will be greater than the former,’
says the LORD of hosts,
‘and in this place I will give peace,’
declares the LORD of hosts.””
Haggai 2:9 NASB