O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!
Matthew 23:37
The fern has passed, song birds gone,
as winter settles between sheets of ice.
The false prophet’s empty words linger
as the soul is led towards damnation.
Tall evergreens are stately and striking,
across a barren landscape housing
skeleton trees undressed of their leaves,
rich emerald pines towering upwards.
Chick-a-dees nestle in prickly pines;
poking feathers of white, grey and black.
Little fellows with BIG voices cheering
those passing by in a dormant world.
A voice echoes from the past, crying out
to barren souls, a populace empty of truth
traveling a road leading towards eternal
death without the presence of their God.
Men who with imposing and impressive
voices fill busy streets. Flagrant, flashy in
their religious behaviors, white washed tombs, now filled with dead men’s weary bones.
Look to the skies, not men without hope!
See the tiny birds in the air; they sow nor reap. They gather to the place their Marker has prepared. It is there eternal hope is found.
The fern has passed, song birds gone,
as winter settles between sheets of ice.
The false prophet’s empty words linger.
as the soul is led towards damnation.
Patti Wolf 