I worked on taxes today, so the title aptly portrays my feeling. I thought it might be nice to take the images presented in the passage from the lectionary texts (Ezekiel 37:1-14) and work with them a bit in a of-my-own-making poetic format.
In the Valley of Dry Bones
Turkey vultures -
serrated wings spread long
as a human body.
Draft circling:
Desert heat
expanding the air
drawn from the lungs of the fallen.
Hundreds? Thousands?
Millions?
Expanse as wide as time
Bones whitened by
blazing sun above –
Scattered callously as
An open grave, mouth wide in exhale.
Mine a slit,
“Live bones. . .
Knit together, be enfleshed . . .
The Sovereign says,”
By human words
and Holy Breath
Mine held within, resisting the pull of draft and desert heat -
Awaiting the rattle.
Awaiting the ruach.
Awaiting the Rising.
