Feminine 101

Around me settles an abrupt serenity,

‘Midst welcome lull from pagan obscenity,

I wonder, “How did it come to this?”

All day these men, these prophets ghoulish,

Have called, shouted, danced, and pled.

They feverishly sang, they prayed, even bled.

Chill wind scatters cries of no avail,

Cannot hear, care, or answer, this graven Baal.

My mocking seems suddenly more cruel.

Their outrageous pleas mark them to a man “fool.”

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I observe their alter, piled with wood,

The flesh of their sacrifice primed if he could

But spark a flame to roaring inferno,

Confirm his godhood, prove their bravado.

But silent he is and will always remain

For he has no mouth, nor hands to sustain.

I look to the gathered, shepherdless crowd.

Seeking a sign, a single word spoken aloud.

Does any god hear? Or are we alone?

Of course, my soul cries, just not ones of stone. 

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These years I have waited, lonely and hiding,

The same questions of El Shama confiding,

Not contained in temple, mountain, or carving

He and the widow kept us all from starving.

Since Ahab’s ascension have I awaited

While he and his wife, the holy have tainted.

Offering the firstborn to Molech the obscene,

Which the Holy One of Israel has sought to redeem.

I wonder if they could possibly intend

Of the Most Holy to more completely offend?

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I look to my alter, dripping and flooded,

The oxen sacrifice butchered, and blooded.

Will it be enough to turn these wandering sheep,

To awaken affections long lain in sleep? 

Or must their wandering hearts be made new

By hand of God formed of flesh and sinew?

I think that the case should they e’re know His name

But for the sake of His glory, I’m here all the same.

Bowing my head in waning light of day

I raise up my voice that all might hear me pray.

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Heart bowed, head raised, “LORD, here I am.

All of this wrought to answer Your command.

Answer me in a land ravaged by drought,

Answer me now and remove any doubt,

That the Holy One of Israel e’en yet lives,

That He saves, He hears, and that He forgives.”

I close my eyes as heavenly fire falls

No longer surprised that He responds to my calls.

With the rising heat of consuming flame,

Grows jealousy for the sake of His great Name.

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These bleeding prophets, snakes every one,

Do they comprehend at all what they’ve done?

On bended knee the flock’s hearts are turned,

Despite every lie, it’s not their off’ring that’s burned.

These are the same chosen, bedraggled band,

He delivered from Egypt by His mighty right hand,

In this I recognize our enemy of old,

His mark is plain. A wonder he should be so bold.

Will it always be, oh LORD, that they are so enticed

Lead away and ensnared by every want and vice?

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I remember His promise when the serpent was young,

Spoken by the same worlds-making tongue,

That proclaimed all creation once good.

I remember God saves all that he would.

There will come a day when none will stand,

But all will kneel before His bared right hand.

I know the drought will not always prevail,

I know rain is coming on the mounting gail.

But for the present, on this now overcast day,

Grimly, I realize that these wolves must pay.

Inspired by the biblical text found in 1 Kings 18.

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