WordsOut poems by
29
The word
was squeezed out like a drop
of ointment, a single spot
of water
in the desert, or the first tiny crack
in the fault before an earthquake; the word was
a whisper
barely audible, but in the hollow
of our hearts it echoed, and the echo grew
to a
sound that made the whole world
stop its ears in case its ringing should crack
the deep
glazing of our self-satisfaction and into
our earthen vessels pour its treasure. The word
broke in
like a visitation of angels,
its bright light scattering the thin
flocks of
our achievements that we graze
so carefully in high, unfriendly pastures.
into our earthen vessels pour its treasure cf 2 Corinthians 4:7
(Authorised Version: the NIV calls them “jars of clay”).
the thin flocks
of our achievements
The metaphor is of the shepherds at