Damascus

Damascus
My brother and I were with him in Jerusalem.

As he spoke from the crowd insisting they move.

We stood with the many as held held cloaks for the few.

Bravely the cast one then another, till life fled.

Yes, I’ll testify he sought warrants for others.

We cheered his actions, he chose us as escorts.

Just a day’s journey from our first destination.

After days of reinforcing the legality of our actions.

It happened, as we topped the last hill before the city.

As he reminded us of our mission and the warrants.

Striding strongly before our mixed group of travelers.

Some for business, others for pleasure, ours a mix.

He screamed with a fright and fell clutching his eyes.

Then as we all in awe stood, a sound all around us was heard.

Dust flew from his grounded face as he replied.

Who, who are you lord, that I persecute, so high.

Silence felled us like a sword as he cried in the dust with alarm.

I cannot see, can you lend a hand to me?

Before the Tora, to the priests I’ll swear.

It was not what we heard that frightened us there.

Our mission forgotten, his face full of fear.

Blindly he stared, muttering, Jesus name, we walked him here.

My brother spoke at last as we walked.

What had he seen, that cost him so much?

We talked as we walked, others falling behind.

Mumbling, chattering about this zealot gone blind.

Nearing the city, with his purse, paid for or rooms.

Rumors of his journey and trial filled Damascus.

Loathing from a new faith at his approach held sway.

It is some trick to Bing us near, many feared.

Three days, refusing company or breaking bread.

Thirsty for understanding he remained a man caged.

Long, he’d told us, of his desire to do Gods will.

Now on the verge of a Christian purge, he’s fallen ill.

From among those, whose warrants he brought.

Ananias crossed Saul’s threshold Christ’s directive at hand.

Hands filled with peace, touched, removing scales from his eyes.

What he could no see through hate, humbled could not be denied.

We watched others join him, reluctant and fearful.

As his passion for oppression, turned to elation instead.

What he had long sought, but could not see.

Had walked before, and still lives in these.

To this I know, I will tell all I have witnessed.

Not only is Saul now Paul, I must the same confess.

Before us now treading a new path.

Having heard a glorious noise, accepting Faith’s task.

My brother knows, the glory of which I speak.

He travels with Paul, and I with Peter, where ever they teach.

Accept this offering, love is at hand.

Not in kingdoms in this stubborn land.

But in the heart, where Faith’s gets its start.

Jesus, Christ, I’m a witness to his start.

WAManning©2016

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