—Two window shades: the stiff
premonition forcing its way around them,
then the first sparrows, chipping through the ice.
And god lies beside you in his—
Wait. So god lies beside you
in his brokenness
covered with black feathers
and in his claw
a small fish—
shiny and new—like a metaphor.
When Elijah came to the widow of Zarephath
she was by the well—weren’t they always
by the well, lowering the gold
rope of consciousness—
Elijah’s need in the desert had been represented
by the circle of black ravens
holding fish and they were
dazzling in the text—just dazzling!—and behind them
o the little tents of change O the tents of Ahab’s men.
The widow trusted him
though her son died, for Elijah had known
one great moment of faithfulness.
And so
this morning, though you cannot
tolerate your life because it is so
difficult, so “filled with promise”
think of the spirit of darkness
that did not abandon you,
and the earth that rests outside you, wanting
the form for which it was created—