Publish the Word
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Yeshua -- 9, The Boy

In the beginning. . .
was the word

 The Lord gave the word: great was the company of those that published it. Psalms 68:11


ix the Boy


Did the boy Yeshua lie atop his pinnacle

     above the village to master

unseeing, to close his eyes against


a cloud-scrawled, midday sky, to let

     each dusty breeze scale Tabor's

peak, let fog enlace distant Hermon,


erase Esdraelon's unrolled, greening

     scroll's vivid florals without his

watchcare?  Did he name each blade


he uprooted, hallow every log he lit

     afire, free the wheeling crows

his eyes held as he rode a drowsy


patch of sun to sleep? Was he lord

     of geckos, lord of hind, hart, hare,

lord of all the wind carried away?


Did he overrule gravity or like any

     other, fall when he fell, bruise,

bleed?  Did he prefer rite or ritual


at synagogue, and were the words

     he read Hebraically sealed

in memory or recalled by rote?


His father must have taught him how

     to edge an axe, chisel, bore an awl,

trim, plane, abut cypress panels, drive


iron, split and countersink, crosscut

     against the grain.  He must have

taught his father joy, even overjoy.