THE CHAIR A novel by Sheila Willar Copyright 2016 Sheila Willar
(revised October 8, 2017)
CHAPTER 7 .................................... THE RIVERS OF EDEN (poem)
They say the riverbeds shimmered,
As if lit by the sun from beneath, For the bottoms were paved with diamonds, A sight beyond belief.
The water so clear it seemed alive, If one scooped a handful to sip, Then liquid tumbling crystals, Would through their fingers slip.
The rivers fed pomegranate groves, A genus so very rare, Cultivated for priests and kings, Said to give life to all who ate them there.
The groves gave way to lush meadows, Fed by the sparkling streams, That in turn gave homes to stallions, So rare that their black was shades of green.
Towering palms drank from the diamond beds, Drawing purified water to the sky, Where glistening palm branches drank their full, And waved to all who passed them by.
The streams of light meandered past, Sand dunes tufted with oats, Where camels grazed and children played, Among tents and herds of goats.
There were no words for “tomorrow”, “hello” or “goodbye”, No words for “must have” or “take”, Their language only reflected, The abundance on which their lives were staked.
All was well as long as God was first, But they gave Him second place, And little by little the land fell ill, As the people fell from grace.
The diamonds were stolen and traded for lies, The rivers grew weak and dark, The pomegranates, people, palms, and steeds, Once distinct … now stark.
The sands cried screaming into the east wind, Where zephyr voices carried them home, By the invisible stream that begged them bar, Spilling the blood of their own.
The wind cried … “Seep, seep, deep, deep, Great Spirit of God, go deep, Dive beneath the heels of men, Bid their foreheads to their feet. Draw souls and swords to common ground, Purge the blood soaked sands, For don’t they know, the wealth they seek, Can only be owned … by humble hands?”
Sheila Willar - August 26/05 (revised October 8, 2017)