The souls under the altar cried,
“ Ezekiel’s time has again arrived.”
  child screaming
on its back,
hands held out
against attack,
        a suitcase silence
        to pack the fear.
For the Lord’s word Ezekiel gives thanks,
The son of Buzi by the Chebar’s banks.
  child hanging
gathers images
from the ground
        bag of pieces
        scraps of rag
A new Jehoiachin has mocked the Lord
And brought the bright Chaldean sword.
  this poor frailty
nailed to that contorted litter
        staggers not
        at agonies
        so bitter
Enfolding Fire, draw near, draw near!
Living Creatures, burn our fear!
  children screaming in the night
crumpled bodies taut with fright
who agonize to glimpse the light
        pieces of rag, bits of scrap
        the grin of death in a child's lap
Lamentations, and mourning, and woe,
And another rebellious house laid low.
  Too late the prophet picks them up.
        Iniquity has filled her cup.
Copyright © 2005 Robert E. Romanelli PhD