Visions
By Patrick T. Reardon
I see the hand of God
write on the wall
the sins of the king.
I see the bloody knife.
I see the father
lead the son to slaughter.
I smell the burning bush.
I see the furnace,
three inside unburnt.
I hear the walls fall,
taste bitter herbs before travel,
stand on sacred ground,
see the salt woman, the honey and milk land,
the river red with blood.
I see the face of God
I hear the Lord speak my name.
I feel the touch of fearful blessing.
Patrick T. Reardon
8.22.19
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.
