Bethel

I sit, in torment, striving to succeed in a world that would not have me, I am the battered women of old, I am the persecuted Jeremiah, I am schizophrenic soldiers tormented by their own insight into unseen realms of beauty, But in the darkness, I sit in the season of Bethel, And see Jacob’s ladder, Angels descending and ascending on the Son of Man, Free to roam and explore, Sheep and Goats together in profligate euphony, I am a woman, forsaken, who would not stop believing in beauty, I am a man, in a world that could not understand him, Raging against the fire of my own fear, to transcend to unseen lightning, When you see the sign of moon and star, Know that the Earth’s redemption is at hand, And imagine.