I'm not sure Shem
the Lord said he was sad,
he told me that a long time ago
the angels had done something terrible
that they had compromised their divine command
for carnal caprice, that their offspring had become offensive,
I never thought that the Lord
could be fallible, or have doubts
but that's what he sounded like to me Shem...
How do you know it was God that spoke to you Dad...
Don't ever ask me that question again,
don't ever ask it again...
The sky is so violent,
the whole world is drowning
is this the death storm of our God's heart...
He chose us Shem,
your Mother, brothers and your wives, these animals,
this Ark, our family is his hope,
if we fail, everything here could end...
And what about those wailing people,
dispossessed of dreams,
the ones on the little boats
displaced by holy wrath,
look at them climbing the whiplashed trees,
there are corpses in the swelling tides of gray justice...
I don't know Shem!
I don't have all the answers,
I'm not God Almighty!
Ask the Lord yourself,
ask him about the wars of pride and lust...
Release the ravens Rachel
don't squeeze them like trapped tears,
let them fly free of fear...
Noah, the ravens have returned...
I know Zara,
I heard the black silk of their squawks,
blow the candles out for me Love...
We haven't seen the dove for days now
and I swear the sky is getting deeper above us...
I know Japheth,
it's like the world is slowly shrinking,
my instincts are stinging
for scouting, building and farming,
despair is drying within me...
I'm worried about the animals Dad,
the big cats and birds are becoming hysterical,
many other species are staring off into nevermore...
The food supply is thin too,
disaster or deliverance is on the dawn Son,
the olive branch from the first dove
is such a slender sign of survival...
Was the branch wet...
No Japheth, it wasn't wet
it was dry as cedar ash...
Zara, my beautiful flame of grace,
I want you to consecrate the ashler alter
that the boys and I built
with your womb blood,
use the ancient white linen,
I'll wrap it around sunflower seeds
sage and acacia oil
and as a family of faithful fugitives
we shall offer these tokens
of our spirit and seed in gleeful gratitude
in humble fire for our Lord's mercy,
then the immolation of noble beasts shall follow...
I take pride in field labor
my bones are packed with earth
my skin sweats salt
my heart is a golden harvest
and my soul stands wise in the wind,
viticulture is my rich forte,
the vines, the grapes, the wines
the sublime sugar refreshment
saturating the subconscious
and elevating deep feelings,
to have my own son Ham
harangue me like an old harpy
disrespecting my toil and body,
interrupting my earned serenity was too much,
after preparing for and surviving the Deluge,
teaching him the crafts
giving him my earnest efforts,
I cursed him, his progeny,
he forgot that this old man
is also a fierce wizard...
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2017