Zacharias (The Precursor’s Precursor)

Bells jingle on the ephod’s sleeve,
the lot falls and YHWH appoints me
Shepherd of the Holy Flame.
I am clothed in Israel
(where people are jewels in the eyes of God)
Topaz, beryl, rubies, sapphire,
jasper, jacinth, agate, emerald.
The holy men, my kin, suit me up
turban, tunic, sash.
A jingling symbol, entering the holy place
I am tied to the temporal
a length of twine grounds me
by the ankle to the footsteps of fate.
Urim and Thunmin rattle
at my chest, tumbling like dice
predicting outcomes at the hem
of the Divine.
Whispers fill the twinkling downbeat
as movement carries
to the Tent of Testimony.

The unexpected angel
distracts my hand from flame.
Breath escapes like fleeing waves,
knees buckle and bend
sparks ricochet on acacia as
the art of making holiness
washes gray in its Presence.
The thing which isn’t IS
transmits a message (voiceless)
in the supernova of light and sound.
Mind molds message to words:
    barren to fruitful
    Father to Son
    birth before birth
    spirit/flesh, Elijah/Messiah
    a gift is given
Clutching incense and reason
my mouth quakes out doubt
babble, fear
As denial takes form and shape
I cringe…
    And cannot speak
The other (Gabriel) winks and Isn’t again.
As shadows linger
the bells subside to stillness too long
my rope pulls taut and from the water
like a voiceless, wide-eyed fish I am caught up.
On dry land, I beckon and turn, I mimic cannot speak
For minutes, hours, and days I am a charade of dust,
outside I am clay, inside I am aglow and burning
knowing the miracle seed has been planted…
(a voice crying out in the desert)