Ezekiel’s Double Sonnet
(A prophet of the exile)
I.
I.
A rift ran down the middle of my soul
With halves that tugged perpetually at war
And kept me torn as both a priest and man.
I found that rules and that exceptions can
Be true at once. Though contradictory,
We must have justice, must have mercy, too,
And must have death although we hear the din
Of dusty bones redressing into skin. A nation must be punished for its sin,
A nation made of aggregates where one
Thus bears the guilt of all although no one
Is guilty for the deeds another's done:
The father's never guilty for the son
Nor is the child for what the father's done.
II.
God's scroll was written to be read. Yet, God
Fed me the message, too. Sad to the ear
Words somehow tasted honeyed to the tongue.
In honeyed thought, I thought of being young
In Israel again although I knew
That logic stays me. God, though, had free hand
To seize my hair and whisk me off to stand
Outside the temple walls. I found a hole
Within one wall and peered in where I saw
Beyond facades, beyond exterior awe
To inner awe that dwarfed all things that we
(However wise) have ever felt or said.
The universe leaps over heart and head
Whose terms of course can't curb a universe
Whose essence always brings it back to God.
© Harold Anthony Lloyd 2016
The current contents of "The Apology Box" can be found here.
