Getting it

For those of you who want the full effect of the Dominion poem for this year, read "Out of the Mouths of Babes, Into the Mouths of Lions" and then read "Out of the Mouths of Lions, Into the Mouths of Babes." This will allow you to see the main persona travel through his/her character development.

Out of the Mouths of Lions, Into the Mouths of Babes

Over this poetry, anyday.

I figured out I was driving to my high school after that [sometimes I drive all over the places]. And the next thing I know I was sitting in the woods behind the building. I was sitting there, somewhere before Dewhurst Dip. I was actually sitting on the ground, my hands grabbing in the pine straw like pulling the hair from Gaia herself. And I realized how old it felt to be so young, and I was tired to the root of me.

And I was thinking, "If a tree falls in this wood, and no one is there to hear it, would it make a noise?" And if I were to go, if I were to leave this place and move on, if I were to do the grownup thing, collegiate thing and move on, to pack up my things and move out would anyone hear...
...
...
...
me?

I sat under a tree [a tree, not a vine; vines dry up], I think it was juniper, and I said, "I am not better than my fathers" [or at least those graduates in the pictures in the hallway]. All I wanted was one angel. Elijah got an angel, and for four years I have prepared to kill my professors of Baal. I'll even take a side of wind or earthquake.

The Greeks had a God, Agnostos Theos.
Agnostos Theos, be known to me now.
For I face a battle and I have misplaced my sword
and I cannot see the forest for the trees falling with no one to hear them,
and I cannot make a noise.
And I cannot get past...
...
...
...
me.

All I wanted was one angel, not even a pretty one like at Christmas, one angel to tell me to wake up and eat. The woods were growing dark and deep, and as I looked, through my teary squinted eyes, I saw a light, a glow, a godly triangle hovering.

We all have at least one memory in common. I think its kind of like a heaven. Remember smooth,
clean sheets,
crisp cool,
tucked in,
smoothed down by a mother's hand.
Remember the inviting freshness of new.
I do.

When I was young before the internet was born,

I drew Jesus with my eight crayons.

Not Arian Jesus like the flannelgraph,

or even middle eastern Jesus,

but sienna stick figure God became flesh Jesus,

my first graven image, my first attempt to simplify

Someone so complex and simple.

Oh, so the light,
my seraphic light,
was the light in the hallway of the school in front of me.
And when I cleared my eyes, I saw them:
Two adults,
one kid,
sillouette etched on the glass of the door.

They were, I think they were, praying. They were together. Maybe a teacher and a parent, or a parent, and administration, or two parents, or I don't know really, and I'm not sure I care because I got it.

And I fell awake and fed on this.

So thank you my Savior,
Your sovereign behavior
taught me the hope of fresh starts and new beginnings
the totality of morality,
the fidelity of humility,
the exaltation of the Known God in whom I place my trust.
Give me stability,
my gracious deity,
over this poetry
any day.