Discursion

He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth; he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.

Puffs of dirt clouded around the footsteps of Yeshua as he walked toward Moses and gazed down into the valley where the Israelites had gathered below.  Clamoring utensils clanged with a familiar metallic ring echoing off the walls of Mount Nebo.  The bray of donkeys, and the bleats of goats and sheep, along with the bellowing of cattle seemed to harmonize with the clamoring utensils.  An anticipation from finally entering the land flowing with milk and honey was revealed in spoken, excited, indecipherable tones.  An orchestra of timbrels and lyres accompanied the voices of men, women and children singing praises, which filled the air up to heaven.  A parade of Egyptian dancers swayed in rhythmic sync with the music.  It was a choir of millions exalting the goodness of the their Savior, the Lord God, who was now leading them into the Promised Land.

Joshua looked up towards the ledge where Moses stood and asked Caleb, “Who is that man standing with Moses?”  Caleb looked up and being filled with the Spirit said, “That is the Captain of the Host of the Lord.  You’ll be meeting Him soon.”

Moses was also gazing down at the parade of Israelites, his people, lost in the past.  So lost in thought was Moses he hadn’t noticed Yeshua standing beside him.

“Moses.” said Yeshua.

Keeping his gaze on the people in the valley Moses answered, “Yes, My Lord.”

“Do you see the land, Gilead as far as Dan?”  Moses looked up at Yeshua, then looked out towards the north.  ”There is Naphtali and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah as far as the western sea.  There is also Negev and the plain in the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, as far as Zoar.”

“I see it, my Lord.”

“This is the land which I swore to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, saying, ‘I will give it to your descendants’ “.

Moses could see the land was beautiful.  He inhaled deeply and smelled the fertile soil populated by forests of fruit trees and grapevines.  Herds of fallow deer and gazelle grazed cautiously upon the green, grassy plains.  Watching closely was a pride of lions monitoring the movements of the herds, scanning for their next kill.  Tall grass swayed back and forth in the strong breeze as jackals darted in and out of the grass hunting for small rodents.  Hyenas cackled in the distance.  Flocks with thousands of cranes took flight, whooping noisily as they distanced themselves from the approaching Israelites.  It was truly a bountiful land that flowed with milk and honey and teemed with life.

Moses swatted at some insects buzzing around his face, then bit his lip and turned his attention to Yeshua.  ”Please, Lord, do not become angry with me, but I must ask one last time?”  Yeshua looked deep into Moses eyes and was moved with compassion for His faithful servant.  He knew the question and the Lord considered relenting, but He could not.

“I have let you see the land with your eyes, but you shall not go over there.”  Moses let out a loud sigh of disappointment and nodded his head in agreement.  His eyes misted from the painful memory of his unfaithfulness so many years ago upon another mountain.

“We shall enter the Promised Land together.” said Yeshua.  Moses looked at Yeshua with a puzzled look on his face wondering what He meant.  Before he could ask, Yeshua placed a hand on Moses’ heart and he collapsed to the ground.  Michael and Gabriel appeared with five other angels and carefully picked up the body of Moses and followed Yeshua to an undisclosed grave in Moab where He buried him.

Although Moses was 120 years old when he died, his eye was not dim, nor his vigor abated.  So the sons of Israel wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days.

Adam stood before the menacing cherubim with its spinning, fiery sword hovering high above its head.  Behind it was the entrance to the Garden of Eden leading to the center of the garden and to the trees standing in the midst.

The Tree of Life stood in full leaf, bearing heavy fruit, weighing its branches near to the ground.  No matter the seasons of the year it was always in full leaf and bore fruit.  Beside it was the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, withered and dead in the shadow of the Tree of Life, much like Adam’s heart.  He stood there staring at the trees with years of memories taking him back to the day he ate the fruit.  Adam rubbed the right side of his torso and ran his finger along the scar.

“Why?  Why did I eat?” said Adam to no one in particular.  He fell to a knee, using his staff for balance, and buried his old face into his free hand.  Great sobs poured from Adam, convulsing his body until he collapsed to the ground.  The cherubim glanced down at Adam, ignored him, and continued with its guard.

Regaining his composure, Adam slowly lifted himself off the ground and stood again before the cherubim.  He didn’t know how long he had lain there and wiped away the tears from his eyes noticing his fingers felt sticky.   He looked at hands to see them smeared with blood, mixed with dirt, and balled them into fists.

He walked towards the entrance and was a single step from walking over the threshold.  ”STOP!” commanded the cherubim.  ”Move nearer and I shall slay you where you stand by the command of God.”

“I am already a dead man.”  The cherubim appeared not to hear Adam and continued with its guard.  The creature showed neither concern nor interest for Adam’s distress.  Its only concern was the duty to guard the entrance to the garden and the Tree of Life from men who would seek immortality from its fruit.  It cared not for the woes which plagued man, though, it held a curiosity as to why God concerned Himself with the creatures.

“Every death, every disease which plagues man;” said Adam.  ”Every drop of blood and every bead of sweat from his brow fall upon my hands.  I have murdered the innocent, my own sons and daughters, with pride and the futile desire be like God.  To know good and evil like Him!”

Adam’s chest was heaving and he place a hand over his heart.  A long sigh escaped his mouth.  ”Now I know evil for I was its harbinger this very day, nine centuries ago, brought forth by the sweet flavor of fruit.  With each prick of the thorn, and every slithering snake I kill, I am reminded of my guilt and I…cannot…bear it…any longer.”  Adam showed the cherubim his dirty, bloodied hands.

The cherubim disregarded the hands and looked into Adam’s swollen, bloodshot eyes glazed over with memories of what could have been.  ”Son of God, remain where you stand.” commanded the angel.

“I’m sorry.”  Adam looked up towards the sky, spread out his arms and stepped forward as a cool breeze caressed his face.  The cherubim quickly spread its large wings and with a single, downward swoop of its powerful wings it shot upwards and grabbed the hilt of the flaming sword.  Before Adam’s foot touched the ground of the entrance into the garden the cherubim had killed him.

So all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred and thirty years, and he died.

I don’t pretend to be a poet
for rhythmic aabbcc or aa bb aa
escapes my understanding
and eludes my patience.

To be sure, it will keep
me satisfied with meager means;
and baffle me with the
hidden things from my heart.

The muse of fractured sentences
extract a certain joy—no that’s
not right.  Extracts a certain comfort and
peace to my crowded mind.

‘Tis why poetry is
therapeutic for me.
‘Tis why I call my prose,
my undisciplined prose, therapoetry.

We Versifiers, we few, with many words
eluding grammar, semantics, and syntax
with creative defiance
outside the boxes of our hearts

Quiet strengths revealed only
in our written words;
the doorway to our hearts
to enlighten the masses

Pain, our unfortunate,
unwanted muse we bear
upon our shoulders; in
dark corners of thought

We share our discomfort
so others can share
their joy with folks;
or alone with a smile

Think us not uncertain
for our solitude or
cowardly for our meekness,
we know the power of words

We Versifiers, we few, with many words.

Wrath

what sweet release
what cold revenge
what power, destruction
the pride of murderers

Greed

the bane of profit
the joy of poverty
what will one give
for the price of their soul

Sloth

entitled to do nothing
earn nothing
whine about unfairness
the world hates you

Pride

quick, tempered wound
vanity of vanities
to stand against eternity
the face of God veiled

Lust

sexual
powerful
satisfying
diseased

Envy

beautiful in shades
of green
the heart of sloth
the enemy of exertion

Gluttony

symbolic wealth
wrapped in layers
of obesity
and unrestrained palates