Bones 3 for Ezekiel 37

I dwelt too long

In the valley

Of the dry bones

Brittle they were

Blackened by fire

Bleached white by the sun

And pockmarked by the winds

That blew without ceasing.

They were crushed by the boots

Of the ignorant hoards

The fury of fears unleashed.

Cracked down to the marrow

Of hope unborn.

No more! Cried my soul

Stop with this mess

Open the tomb

And rattle the bones.


My first two bone poems were posted here. 


Dry Bones – Images from Ezekiel 37 (written in April 2004)

My bones know,
Underneath it all,
I have lived
In the valley of the dry bones,
Waiting for the four winds to blow,
For the holy breath.
Dry bones
Fragile and hard
Spin through the dance
As the rain falls.
Bones rattling to life
Spring is coming.
Praise God.
The Bones Now (June 2018)

These bones are old now

Dry as the desert again
Cracked with wear
The joints creak
From lack of youth
But they have danced
Rattling with laugher
While the rain washed over us
Spring and summer
Fall and winter
These bones
Have seen it all.
They will carry on
As long as the Spirit
Shall dwell within

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