Tragedy

My dearest little sister,

Into the lovely dream that has been our lives

with all its sweet memories of an innocent childhood,

a curious tragedy has grown.

And all we can do is watch

as we drift upon our convictions,

the fog of fear thickening between us.

I heard a call from Heaven and my obedience felt like death,

because He took me from you, my dearest.

The sorrow drowns me at times

Yet upon this new shore of faith,

I find answers of diamonds and pearls, riches of knowledge and grace

beyond all fathomings.

I ache to share with you this Jesus,

this Jesus who melts my heart and

makes me love you more!

But therein lies the deep tragedy,

For the more my arms are held out to you,

In tender Christian unity,

I turn into a dark ghost of prophecy

spoken by a woman long ago.

My faith is deceived or

Ellen’s visions shatter.

I am fear, confusion and distrust.

I know my darling sister, every word of love smilingly spoken is a prayer,

hoping that I will return to your Christ and the safety of your Sabbath.

Who is this phantom prophetess of yours

who awakes from her grave to pit us against each other?

Oh, that her angel would have pointed its bad fortune towards

Marx or Caesar, Voltaire or Freud,

Perhaps the demon would no longer be me.

Our love for one another? Jesus’ charge is lost in the chaos

of suspicion, last day persecutions and great controversies.

It is lost to devotions and loyalty to God’s appointed,

Which is the utter irony,

For I have also discovered God’s appointed.

Our words halt in fear,

For the bubble is fragile,

Both are certain we know truth, we know God.

Tragedy,

A prophecy that makes my obedience a falling star,

And my faith the villain

And my love, the final deception.