Something in the Air Flashing

 

Something in the Air Flashing

(“Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” John 1:29b)

There is something in the air flashing,
something in the air refracting the
light into a million diamonds dancing on the
unfastened sky.

The River Jordan is muddy and cold,
but the air above it is warm and clear.
The scheduled stoning on the outskirts of town
has been officially cancelled. And so have the barbed
hooks
thrown down from superior summits
to teach upriver swimmers a thing or two.
Shaded in black and white, every hue became
white and red like wine in a prism’s beam.

But there is limitless space where the river
meets the air,
bodies bursting forth, eyes sparkling,
toes still clenched to the silt underwater.
The greens are an artist’s dream where
color occupies every atom: trout, cedar,
ranch fence, cherry, olive, earthworm and
diamond ring.
The atmosphere swells, an overture of
songbirds and saturn’s orbit around the sun.

Some hear it and lay down every sharpened word
used
to slay the enemy before the enemy knew
their own past was darker and vacant. Some refuse, tuned
only to martial percussion. They will not lay
their weapons down.

But the river still runs deep,
the air still dries every drop,
the Lamb still waits quietly, taking up the rear,
following to catch the few who straggle
behind. The Lamb repeats
the heaven song and removes every
wound and blade. The Lamb whispers us toward
the river
and waits for us to hear.