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No Cloud Descended

September 5, 2012

I prayed You down from Your holy mountain
onto these rolling hills, verdant pastures, wooded glen
Or so I imagined You descending and the wind announcing
Your holiness that unravels the plans of wicked men

I saw the trees rejoicing and the meadow brook dance
The pasture lay still in quiet anticipation
The brittle, dry meadow brush held hope that by chance
breathing You in would bring renewing, restoration

My mustard seed of faith was watered and well planted
And my songs touched even the heart of the moon
The stars bent low to observe my pleading granted
Breathless, the whippoorwill withheld it’s tune

But no cloud descended, no rushing wind proclaimed
No renewing or rescue or release from gathered fear
No old things new and no lost dreams reclaimed
Only a passing from present to past minute by year

I shall never again walk those hills but in my memory
while the fields cry out and recount the injustice of life lost
Sun-dappled paths and lazy streams but echoes in history
A time before filling my pockets with collected sorrow’s cost

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From → Poetry

7 Comments
  1. “unravels the plans of wicked men”.
    Stunning.

  2. JWB permalink

    Very nice poem, and well written.

  3. ArWalther permalink

    You roll words together well. Another good piece.

  4. Noah, this is nicely chilling. The imagery is at once haunting but also beautiful.

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