Thursday, September 27, 2007

Elijah Prose

Horeb bound, I want to flee

I want to leave everything and run

run from everything and nothing

run towards anywhere but here

I want to take solace under a broom tree

give up, let go, sleep.



Feed me with food prepared by angels,

let me drink from their hands

whisper to me Your sweet words

that the fight is not over.



(see I Kings Chapter 19)