Marah Abbadon
In the Tale of Marah Abbadon
Whose bitter spirit is long gone,
Her mother was a jaded Jezebel,
Who cast out Marah wishing her in Hell.
In life she wandered bare terrane
Plagued by pestilence and murrain.
She dwelt in caves and holes in the ground,
The warmest homes she ever found.
Nothing ever relieved her woes,
Through desert heat and mountain snows.
Her lonesome life was fraught with danger.
Wherever she went she was a stranger,
Searching endlessly for a home,
But finding none, thus doomed to roam.
After dolorosa years of strife
She sought a place to end her life.
Through Jerusalem’s walls she made her way
Stumbling into Siloam’s pool that day.
A Spirit stirred the waters there.
Her heart felt lighter than the air.
It would not work; the angel told the wench
Her homesick thirst it could not quench.
A prophetic, white-robed passerby
Offered living water that shall not dry,
Blessing Marah with a place to dwell,
Forever closed to mama Jezebel.
5/2/2023
Copyright © David Drowley | Year Posted 2023
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