See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
The earth is stretching out of her shell,
Cracking open to let the light in,
Wielding fire and oceans of suffering
Held deep below tectonic plates,
Gathering all our transgressions into
One projectile aimed at heaven.
When its fire falls back to crackling skin
Brandishing a mighty cleansing sword,
Will we run in fear or welcome its destruction?
The wings come first into the breech.
She will fly but who or what will steer the flight,
A dark angel? Or a saint?
Who will be the architects of a new design,
And who will be the builders,
Dreamers? Or survivalists?
For thousands upon thousands
We have destroyed and rebuilt
Never before or even now
How much is lost or
What could be gained.
© 2017 Bessie Adams Senette