Poetry

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THREE CHAIRS


Three chairs
Rest side by side
Empty

Each bears a name
A child absent from my embrace
But not my heart

Though they reside on a carpet of living green
Enfolded in light’s embrace
Gazing steadily upon waters
Running gently … still
Peace is not their portion
Or mine


Empty chairs
Never having known their presence
Yet their wavering image fills each
As my heart’s gaze lingers there


Three empty chairs
Filled with lingering burdens
Trials, pains, sufferings
Life’s tutors
In the journey of their faith


Empty burdens weigh down my soul
Deplete my spirit

I see amiss

Not three empty chairs
But three Isaacs
And three altars call

Dare I listen
In the darkness of Abraham’s night
To the sacred Voice speaking my name

Will I resist obedience’s freedom
Preferring loving
Wishing it the sacrifice to which I’m called

Easier sacrifice
My own understanding
Martyr to burden bearing

But the darkness of Abraham’s night
Will not be silenced
The sacred Voice still speaks my name
Knowing well the pain to which obedience calls
Offering to be my soul’s balm
Himself knowing the knife’s cutting edge
Promise’s pouring out

The night awaits
An answer

Dare I lay my Isaacs down
Entrust them to Sovereignty’s thicket ram
To I AM’s care
That better offering than myself
Who knows no burden


Three empty chairs …

Within my open hand
Three offerings
Each bearing an absent child’s name
Side by side
On pastures green
Gazing on Living Water
Poured out for them




© 5 August 2006
DeAnna L. Brooks

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