Fallowed Bones

“Let it rest, and lie fallow.” Exodus 23:11

Parading through the tombs
Osteon cries out, “dead man walking!” 
my stoic step trudges the graveyard path
quietly echoing the dormant season 
of the hallowed dirt 

Fallow settles 
white dust blankets 
the plotted land of dry bones
a cocooned season
the earth must still

Kairos quiets
for the fruitfulness to renew
the idle land sleeps 
for the dry bones to ready 
for the Word
 
Fallow seeps deep into the bones
unveiling the shadowed fruit 
that must be pruned, plowed under 
to nourish and renew 
my weary spirit

A life’s foundation 
bulldozed, flattened
exposes the rubble
and becomes a public spectacle 
of broken skeletal remains

The fallow season is upon 
and I too must sleep with the earth
until his breath 
waters the dry bones awake
that only He can renew 

I slumber in dreams
that long for his breath 
to resurrect my spirit
Kairos returns with the mist of his kiss
that gently wakes the fallow 

His hand steadies  
as we survey the dormant mess
of scattered dry bones 
that he created, living
to house His home

I see afresh, the burden of the dry bones
so agape deep, I moan under the weight 
of his love for those he mourns
awkwardly, I lift them high to see 
his love come down

I mimic the ass that journeyed 
the bones from which I came
the donkey was birthed a burden bearer
I was born to see, but not to bear
a gift of vision to point but not to carry home

My heart could not hold their footing 
and buckled under the weight 
I had forgotten the husbandry yoke needed 
and collapsed at the dung gate
scattering the dry bones 

He gently maneuvers  
through the graveyard of dry bones
and brings us to the crossroad tree
to behold, afresh the marker 
that gives life to the dry bones

He visions me from the lens of his longing
and asks, “can these bones live?” 
“only you know,” I whisper
eyes wet, my vision darkly clouds
of knowing the words to speak but not to bear

He motions to see 
him bear the burden of the tree
to know that he carries more weight 
than the ass his hands created
to carry his own bones home

He gives his living marrow 
in exchange 
for the dry bones that lie fallow
"Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!" 
He breathes his last

I inhale the fragrance of his exhale
and drink in his perfumed sweat that moistens 
the fertility of the parched fruit seeds  
His naked skeleton resurrects the fallowed dry bones
a new sound rattles as the army clumsily rises

the fallowed dirt mingles with his spit
He gently soothes the manna paste 
over my eyes to see His Kairos Word  
I must leave the burden bearing to Him 
to carry the dry bones home

Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to Life. Ezekiel 37:4

So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet – a vast army. Ezekiel 37:10

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