A Harrowing: Redux

Last night, I performed at a spoken word open mic for the first time(!) I opted to share one of my theological musings from nearly two years ago. The version that I performed is different from the original, so I thought it’d be worth sharing here. The bolded writing highlights changes from the first version and/or emphasis that I wanted to highlight during my reading


The fire gave no light. It belched and spluttered as night molted its thick, black feathers and day let fall a veil of glass-jagged ashes and dust.

 

Veiled and feathered were the bodies wanting to escape and stay still, stay and sleep, writhe and sleep in a state beyond the below where the peaks were too low and the valleys brushed the snake-scaled ceiling of the sky.

 

Hooks hung from the tongues that the False Witnesses wore, lolling in a great cloud of unneeded answers to unneeded questions about unheeded law that burned on the lips of the cowardly, the gullible. Their curious despair had left them cold amid the sickly waves of a heat that cried-

 

Mystified, the flim-flam men lost their last Fugazi to a pack of televangelists whose golden smiles stretched out for miles and swallowed all the seed faith in their way.

 

Wanting to stay, a Don Juan type waited for his absent lover. Ten minutes more. Just ten minutes more. He stared at the door while Avarice shuffled on the ground: the scraps (his scraps!) could not be found.

 

The traitors shivered on the ice, quaking from both cold and fright, because Dante, Dante was right and their fate was a frigid furnace.

 

The narcissists nearly stopped talking when they saw a Man a-walking. A strange tree, strapped to his back,  scraped the liquid floor.

 

The Violent were jealous of his scars, which shone like silver stars; they felt truly empty because there’d been substance there before. This Man had seen true war.

 

The Gluttons saw his skinny frame, and joked and laughed and pitied His name. He wasn’t hungry? They were. They were. Yessir. They were.

 

His voice was never very loud and this really did disturb the Proud. How long did he expect to stay if they couldn’t hear what he had to say? There were other speakers on the list.
When He whispered ‘Freedom’ (and he often did) some followed,  but more hid. It was too warm, it was too bright. They’d stick with the fire they knew (thank you): the fire that gave no light.

 

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