Death of a Prophet (dedicated to Ron Gatrelle; pastor, brother, friend)

(May 2006)

And the man of God was laid to rest today.
The speaker used the word prophet
     with an uncapitalized “p”
     (I don't think he dared).
     He didn't personally know the man—
          the man of God—
          the vessel that
          though cracked and chipped and scratched
               poured out
               what was poured in.
               (How could that hold water?)

Well, they said,
He's dead…
     guess we were
     wrong/right
     about him.

But Prophets die,
(they're not immortal you know)
     and occasionally another one
     comes along behind him.
     (Faster. Stronger. Better than before.)

Besides,
     does the Truth die?
     Do prophesies fade?
     The grass still grows
          after the tree is but a stump.

Anyway,
     the man of God moved on,
     shedding the cocoon of this life
     for the wings of the next.

And whether we liked
     the coarse, imperfect human being,
     (how many true prophets are really well-liked?)
     the facts of the words
          that were not his
          remain.