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THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS
The Road to Damascus,
Leads North,
And meanders like a child,
Through the pockets and aprons,
Of Mount Hermon,
It plays in the hems of its skirts,
And lingers late,
In the long summer shadows,
As it eavesdrops,
Upon the voice of God,
As it is poured out,
From the gates of heaven,
Onto brilliant white,
Snowy peaks,
And tablelands,
Where it spills down,
Over countertops,
And highland meadows,
And runs wild,
In cascading,
Laughing rivers,
That bubble and gurgle,
And feeds the roots of children,
Long after they have gone.
The Road to Damascus,
Bears witness,
To the ways of men,
Where royal chariots,
That carry gold and silver,
Scrape hard against weathered carts,
That bear slaves and orphans,
Such is the nature of the traveler,
Upon the Damascus road,
The tether of Petra,
The seed of Tyre,
The covenant of Abraham,
The bane of Rome,
The crown of Persia,
The road of tides,
Of those who flow to and from,
The desert,
And to and from,
The minaret of Christ.
The Road to Damascus,
Bears fine wines and oils,
Artisan breads,
And pomegranates,
And leaves for the healing of kings,
It bears all the provisions of life,
But it also ferries,
Spears and arrows,
And the Damascus sword,
The breaker of all other swords,
Infused with vanadium and leaves,
Too patterned,
And far too sharp,
For evil men to wield,
Cutting themselves,
With no sheath safe enough,
Or strong enough,
To contain such jealousy.
The Road to Damascus,
Is the teacher’s, teacher,
Where cleverly crafted,
Earthly writs,
And strategic plans,
And vows of war,
Crumble in the dust and clay,
Beneath the feet of men,
Who claim to know the will of God,
Without ever meeting Him,
Face to face,
Without ever having seen the light,
Where all come to know the difference,
Between the authority of men,
And the authority of God,
Where a heavenly father,
Brushes hair from boyish eyes,
So that he may arise,
And see straight,
So that he may choose to grace,
The Road to Damascus,
With the same spirit within himself,
That fills the springs,
That feeds the dew on the wild flowers,
That grow in simple bouquets,
On the sides,
Of the Road to Damascus
Sheila Willar - August 16, 20!!
(adapted from June 17, 2007)
Acts 9:1-9 (KJV)
1 And Saul, yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the high priest,
2 And desired of him letters to Damascus to the synagogues, that if he found any of this way, whether they were men or women, he might bring them bound unto Jerusalem.
3 And as he journeyed, he came near Damascus: and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven:
4 And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?
5 And he said, Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.
6 And he trembling and astonished said, Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? And the Lord said unto him, Arise, and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do.
7 And the men which journeyed with him stood speechless, hearing a voice, but seeing no man.
8 And Saul arose from the earth; and when his eyes were opened, he saw no man: but they led him by the hand, and brought him into Damascus.
9 And he was three days without sight, and neither did eat nor drink.
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