Intercession: A Record of Five Turning Points (A Poem)

My jealousy of the Sighted was an obsession, my own private aggression.? An unlearned lesson. Chains of oppression.

A Blindfold over these holes in my face.? These deformed storm-colored eyes.

Sol would never dance in my skies, only a Red Dwarf would rise.

Doomed never to “see” what you mean, “See” what I’m sayin’

“See” the opportunities, My lot never changing, despite the fervent prayin’

Then, Intercession.

My impaired sight saw a Saul of a man, A king to the people, a tall of a man.

Walk past the small of the land. Weeping with tears in her hands.

With clear vision, he looked with perfect eyes and looked away from her broken-hearted cries.

And Finally to my surprise. My sight became insight, then opened my inner eyes.

Acuity, depth, and focal point are not the true vision.? But discernment and perception. The components of wisdom.

Everything I touched turned to gold. A mindless Midas all plus and no minus.

Yet truth be told I was worthless and mightless.? A prisoner of my own pride.??

One who enjoyed success but never tried. Doom stretched out its hands to touch me from the other side. I couldn’t stop the slide.

Then Intercession.

My Nemesis laid upon my cheek an ungentle touch, both sharp and rough.

But just enough for the lesson to sting.? These hands weren’t meant to reach only for pleasure, but to claw deep in the earth and work worth my measure.

My ears were filled with sweet sounds of adoration. A preacher you’ll be, A man of invocation

The unsolicited praise lifted my station for a duration, I was a sensation.

Then Intercession.

I learned some doctrines were false and I started to question? My curiosity quelled and curtailed my progression.?

The Mammon of Man they took from me till nothing was left.? They afflicted me mute, soundless, and deaf. In that gray void of voice and the unbounded sound of still.??

God whispered as loud as the thunder of the storm “Go do my will.”

I’ve smelled the most fragrant of flavors.? Tasted things the kings savor. Imbibed from the fruits of my labor. Enjoyed the Ruler’s favor. My rewards now instead of later.? Shunned the lesser and embarrassed the greater. Inhaled the perfume of Alma Mater, Certain it would never waiver.

Then Intercession

My offering stank and was cast down. To the Kings' I became a clown. My fruits withered in the barren ground, The worldly rulers in my presence frowned, My rewards could not be found, I had naught but a feather and they took a pound, I sat in the bile of unhallowed ground, I was sure to disappear without a sound.

Stripped of all taste, with the exception of salt. I was poured deep into the wound, in the midst of the fault.

My connection to intercession.