A Howling

*Picture by Gabriel Jimenez on unsplash

This poem is interacting with John the Baptist in John 1:19-28, who references the Prophet Isaiah's words in Isaiah 40.

I heard the voice of one calling in the wilderness,
His tone clear, direct—dusty with prophets past.


“Make straight the way of the Lord.”
His words lined up neatly—
Raising valleys, lowering hills,
Smoothing rough ridges.


I heard his voice with a howling.
It scooped into my flesh and hollowed me.
It turned my inner structure, into inner rooms—


Somewhere I could invite company,
Somewhere I could speak, and be spoken to.


I listened, 

          
To the voice encoded in the stars above Abram,
Carried in the seed of Jacob’s offspring,
Planted in the field of Ruth’s labor, 
Hidden in the yes of Mary’s magnificat.


"What do you say about yourself?"
I looked at my hands, veins like crumpled grass.


"I am unworthy but one is coming,
Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his palm,
And enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure."