A sixteen-year-old girl weeping
in the dark basement room
I didn’t understand
God watched me
through the ceiling
as if it were the cover
of the golden mercy seat.
If I could have sensed anything beyond
I would have breathed in
fragrant prayer incense
felt flicked sacrificial blood
trickle down my forehead
glimpsed Yahweh’s great glory
as the bright cloud settled above me
between cherubim’s shining wings.
Instead of tears for food
I would have tasted sweet manna.
I would have traded despair
for Aaron’s budding staff of hope
with healing leaves
from the tree of life.
Today light floods the dark room inside
as my Father rips the thick curtain
top to bottom.
* I referred to these Scripture passages in this poem:
Ex. 25 & 40, Lev. 16, Ps. 42:3, Mt. 27:51, Rev. 22:2