The Very Stones Will Cry Out

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

In desert places God is seen and heard.

A burning bush appears but does not burn.

Mild flames are miracle enough.  A bird

Sings out some truth.  A peacock’s tail will turn

And turn an iridescent truth on ground

That grows no beauty.  Satan glozes Christ

Among the hungry dunes and truth is found

In abnegation.  Truth is not enticed

By gold luxuriant as jungles.  John

In Patmos exile far away from Peter’s Rome

Transcends the bitter ocean, exile gone

From rocky cliff.  He sees salvation’s dome.

  The ravens feed the prophet not just bread.

    He feeds on holiness inside his head.