Water Song

Yet more poetry. Perhaps I should change the title of the blog!

Water Song

In my exile I stare over the Euphrates,

As my tormentors prod and mock my weaknesses.

Powers and principalities celebrate my defects,

And with glee they march me into their unholy city.

The idol of a whore sits in the center of the street,

A counterfeit of an image I know very well.

They bid me make sacrifice but I will not,

Though before in Judah I had set up high places,

And made merriment with priestesses painted in gaudy colors

With back turned toward Jerusalem. In the land of Jacob I forgot his God.

Thus was I conquered: not by strength of arms

but by weakness of faith,

And in my humiliation perhaps I finally

find some small might.

The price is dear for my refusal.

I am beaten and scourged and forced to watch

As the vessels of my temple are laid out

And unholy Eucharist is celebrated before my eyes.

With blasphemy on their lips they eat and drink damnation.

And by the waters of the Goddess I once worshipped

I am reminded of the Holy Bride.

“Sing us a song,” they jeer, but I cannot.

I will not speak of Thy mysteries to Thine enemies.

“Sing us a song,” they cry, but my tongue is stopped.

I cannot sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land.

“Sing us a song,” they shout, but I’ve hung my harp.

Rather than forget Jerusalem let me lose my right hand.

And in my silence the babbling of the Euphrates is stilled.

The noise of the revelers turns to dismay

As Daniel cries out, “You have been measured and found wanting!”

I am reminded of the words of the prophet Isaiah

Speaking of the Anointed One offering forgiveness and return.

And so, through bloodied lips I lift my voice and sing:

“Shine, shine, O New Jerusalem!”

Shine bright, though my blackened eyes cannot yet see.

“Be glad and exult, O Zion!”

Your Son has entered exile to set the captive free.

“Rejoice, O Pure Theotokos!”

For in the Resurrection this exile returns home.