Army Green

And now look! bound in the spirit I am traveling—said Paul—
And I know that after my going away . . . from among you yourselves
Men will rise and speak twisted things . . .
from Acts chapter 20


The soldiers of Christ, noble, said the preacher, and bold,
Fought the sacred battle with weapons not carnal
Seeking to swing, by eloquence and disputation, the soul
In attendance at the great revival.

Their names were spoken with reverence, though unknown to me,
Yet my ear heard a faint trope in the telling
That made suspicion grow to a tremor of plea
That I pair in the task of setting it right in the knelling
Of canons that keep slipping aside into sects
Leaving revivals broken and scattered like so many dreams.

I was seen for godly vision such that our two intellects
Together like ghostbusters crossing their streams
Could quell the confusion with no fault or robber
To achieve the elusive grail—the wish of the Christ—
That one we would be, as Son to the Father,
A masterful braid, this time not needing a splice.

I stayed my tongue this round having scored no points
Preceding, not saying that revivals showing no sign of cracking
Are as rare as pigs with no oinks.

Yet there I sat with thoughts swirling and tracking
The glimmer of aim his words betrayed from his heart
That he the preacher and I the ponderer together
Could change the world by our genius and art
And write “revival” on granite besting any weather.

As I recalled the advice of the Bard to ‘take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit,’ I watched my own heart betraying
Itself with thoughts of grandeur and travesty.

Could we right the wretched beast?
Find a trusted trail?

I bobbled.
I balked.
I stalled and I wandered.
I have always been slow.
Heavy.
Sometimes for the best.

I pondered the preacher
Of his sect-of-the-best
Sad for the drooping
Of his fewish companions
In need of revival again.

Does not justice cry out for all?
Is not the Earth the footstool of God?
I widened out.

How many sleepers were in the cave?
Do three and the dog make four?
God does not give a number.

How many years did the sleepers sleep?
Some say three hundred while others add nine.
God says years.

What did the sleepers buy with their silver coins
When they woke up hungry?
The story implies the best they could find.

Proof of resurrection
If we extrude such from the story.
Proof of the Day of Resurrection
If we believe the book.
Proof of Judgment and Resurrection
If we believe in justice.
Proof that Mankind will be a Family
If God has a yearning for his own.
Proof because it says so.


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