Inverse November Unveilings
November boughs peel their tattered leaves
like burnt skin, unveiling tiny gems -
They gleam in the bone grey woods:
opals netted on twigs,
shards of manna boosting my mood.
November ends, as well, my three-month peel
of the uncut Bible, unveiling, not scraps of manna
but a vast feast tantalizing the taste-buds of my soul.
Munching through the bread of the narrative books
I consume, like my native food,
chaotic scenes, muddled mortals,
not sugar-coated but flawed, faithless and redeemed.
The prophecies require tougher chewing
to digest the meat of God’s love
and savor the aromatic morsels of his heart
for the poor, the orphan and the widow.
The vegetables of the law and letters, like daily vitamins
inject a healthy image of a flourishing life.
The gospels are the pure milk of Jesus’ grace,
Sweeping away impurities from the heart.
Saturated with the fine wine of poetry,
the entire feast brims with passion and praise.