early rush of Mark

Harvey S. Mozolak

the heavens torn

for the dove descending

God looking for a perch

what of that distant

desolate tree

whipped by wind

stripped by storm

and stilled

but two barren branches?

driven into the wild

by the Spirit that rips

the light from darkness

above the river’s rippling waters

bathed with blessing

drying in the dying

into desert

his urgency

tempted by Satan

among the untamed fierce beasts

himself bestial with blame

this deliverer of human shame

shammed by sand molded

making evil’s mirages

repent!

repentance is fierce

violently torn and driven

so empty and alone

so all that remains is

to believe the good news

of God’s immediacy