"God in Us" by Joan Yamashita

A falcon
a gyre
a  sphinx and crows.
What a wonder it must have been
to see such a dissolution;
to see the soul so perfectly
ripped from its earthly womb.
The prophet sees and cries
for revelation
seeks higher elevation
and scratches his words
so they are perseved
on bits of paper
parchment
clay
stone
sand,
whatever’s at hand.
“He give me Revelation!”
He cries
he sighs
and lies down in despair
at the silence.
This time, no revelation was at hand.
No vision or prophecy
presented to the pleading
prophet.
“I have eyes that do not see”
he laments
“and ears that do not hear.
“I lay broken here and weep.”
But it is not the Silence or the Darkness that brings the tears.
Not silence or darkness that has broken the prophet.
N indeed not.
For in the silence HE still whispers
and in darkness HE still sees,
but the falcon still flies
the gyre widens
a sphinx stalks the desert land
and the prophet weeps.

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