Valley of Decision

Valley of Decision

(“There are many people in the Valley of Decision. The Lord’s day of judging is near in the Valley of Decision.” Joel 3:14)

Where did you wander that you could still speak the language so well,
and still seem such a foreigner?
Your textbook grammar puts me to shame,
but you have sharpened your commas like fishhooks,
your exclamation points are spears,
and your question marks are inquisitors white hot lamps;
desiring a cowered adversary shivering in the corner.

You have no use for definitions or rational new.

You still wear your hair the same, and announce your allegiances loudly,
but time has uncovered a naked sore. You unclothe carefully,
never answering the invitation to
read new books about the same love. Unless the
jots and tittles
are on the very same pages
you’ve memorized into stone,
you consider it anathema, a demon’s tool,
and wave goodbye to anyone who reads the beauty
meant to rise above the inked letters (oh the Spirit, the Spirit,
the Spirit of the law), and jerk their chain abruptly with offers to
pray. To pray for an “old friend” who now is Satan’s eye.

I have known more men than I thought possible
(who claim the most beautiful Name)
who pray against brothers
and prey upon others
who love the same Name of Jesus
and drive the blade deeply once you’ve judged them

No longer family, but a friend of the devil.

I no longer recognize you, though you speak the same language,
and the blood runs cold where the angry wound forces hot blood
and the face ashen. Where, O Father, and why, did the precious
Name
become a blade to rip tender lives in two?