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The Operative Sacred Language

The Operative Sacred Language

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

When God is speaking, it is like a stream

Of rubies, pearls and emeralds spreading wide

Beneath his crystal sea, its bed agleam

With spirit syllables and words which glide

Like angel manta rays that he ordains.

Their salty wings like ocean prophets send

Their flapping certainty to his domains

Between the coasts of galaxies that blend

Together crashingly in silence.  In

The vacuum of spacelessness just stars

Can hear Jehovah’s rantings jostling sin

And love against each other,  ripping scars.

  The breathing even of his lungs is like

    A diamond Holy Spirit’s scalpel spike.

© Phillip Whidden

 

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