Appearances Lie

Appearances Lie

(“And I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind.” 1 Samuel 2:35a)

Let the appearances lie upon the hills like the spent shells
of last night’s 4^th of July display. It all smells of gunpowder when
the lilacs should fill the air. For 45 minutes we grunted with the thunder
displayed by experts who know which triggers to pull and which wires to touch
and which mixture must meet like teeth in a gear to fling the flower and stars
further than near.

Let the paper boats float in the puddles we created by hosing
the pavement at the end of our driveways. Muddled with gravel
and soaked like a dog shaking down the house after a rainstorm
it only goes so far before it descends a house, maybe two down
the street, stuck in the spaces of the storm drain, waiting one last
whoosh, a full push of water, and it falls, creases sponged with
no repair.

There is more sham, even among the shameless, than we ever hoped true.
There are speakers who never shut down, broadcasters never editing a word,
newspapers filling pages with paragraphs with words with jots and loose tittles
until the alphabet spills like toddler’s juice from lunch on the floor.

There are more costumes, even among the contestants, than we expected,
it’s true.
Every blue with another hue, iris and navy, sea foam and royal; like glitter painted
with ponytails the smell of greasepaint overpowers the latent effect. Did your
dress aim at meaning? Were you evoking anything from us, save a desire to
quickly shut down the store and send everyone home with a refund and a promise
to let them choose what-to-wear, ready-to-wear; not scotch cotton and plastic
balloons labeled “party fare”?

There is more talk, even among beanstalks that have seen more ingenious ways
to bring produce home than giants would care to disclose. Stand for a moment
and if we were not tricked, we know the words were trimmed just enough to evade
them when the questions come bouncing in. And the response-ads leap high
pretending to catch a big-league fly just about to plunge over the fence. Taped
before a life or death audience, the camera pulls back and we know the secrets
of one more candy store that tried to sell nutrition.

Where is Your Cohen, Father; the Faithful One.
Where is our Cohen Brother; the Truthful One.

Speak to us True as from Calvary’s grave
to the tomb’s incapacity to save the day for
the talkers who figured their way was done.

But You fooled them all, risen before dawn,
to prove truth is better served when offered
first forgiven; not instigated.