Gospel Truth

I know this music, she said,
her bow singing across the riggings of the ship,
vibrations of string, quivering, a Stradivarius
on seascapes wild, Colmcille’s blessing on her lips.
Her petaled fingers close on each note, wind-whipped,
prayer stinging her eyes, cutting grooves calloused
by play, tonal cry of pregnant labor for a birth
where words and sounds attuned once only to elemental
spirits, now midwife new life, the dead burying the dead,
but the people of the Way hearing, come dancing.


Colossians 2:8
See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ.

Luke 9:60
And Jesus said to him, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

Image Credit: cocoparisienne from Pixabay 
Ingrid at dVerse: Poetics Tuesday asks us to "write a poem using only concrete nouns, subject matter and imagery." Click on Mr. Linky and join in!

28 thoughts on “Gospel Truth

  1. ‘bow singing across the riggings of the ship,
    vibrations of string, quivering, a Stradivarius
    on seascapes wild, ‘

    – such marvellous imagery! It is delightfully lush and descriptive despite being concrete. Great work on the prompt!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. sanaarizvi

    This is absolutely splendid! I especially like; “tonal cry of pregnant labor for a birth where words and sounds attuned once only to elemental spirits.” 💝💝

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Love the details of the music, bow, strings: quivering, a Stradivarius
    on seascapes wild, Colmcille’s blessing on her lips.

    The words lifted me up, line by line up to a crescendo, as if the beautiful music will never stop. Amazing write Dora!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Having years traversing the depths, experiencing the dark abyss whipped to thunderous violence, yet sometimes reflected-petal-in-the-moonlight soft, I can say this strikes a familiar chord. Fair winds and following seas, Dora!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Truth becomes gospel when a deep voice says “I know this music,” for journey’s end begins there, in that breezy kiss of familiarity taking root and flowering within. We discover what we always knew, or was hidden beneath all the trappings. In every immrama a Blessed Isle: and the music that we hear there is otherworldly, so sweet, and bell-ringingly true. This pilgrim’s psalm is a prayer — a Gospel truth — which becomes fact by practice, as a faith is structured by canonical hours or whatever suffices in similar vein today: In a poem, say. Faith is not abstract but prows, fishes, sails, pages of Gospel, shores, the fire in a saint’s words, a heart swelling abundant. Or something. Divinely put, Dora.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. “…the dead burying the dead, but the people of the Way hearing, come dancing.” Dora, I assure you that I am not saying in false humility that I cannot dance; however, I have broken out in song and dance over God’s grace, forgiveness, mercy and goodness. And like David I am willing to humble myself even more for the Lord out of love, reverence and awe of Him. Love, hugs and blessings!!! 🤗🤗🙏🙏🧡🧡💜💜

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Beautiful lyric poetry at its most ringing and wild, full of emotions yet only as music is, without spelling anything out except to the heart. Everything is shown, heard, not stated, messaged through the senses, not commanded by rote words. The dance, which was also a battle, of the old gods and the new midwifed here. Or so I read. A fine, vivid piece.

    Liked by 1 person

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