The Vapor Trail

They reared me in the temple

of laurels.  I worshipped

at the altar of success.  They taught me

to build stairways of books, and I climbed

the steps of higher learning.  But parchment

honors and scripted words could not

prevent adversity, nor halt the collapse

of my world.  I lay in toppled ruins of hope

while sacrificial smoke disappeared.



I searched for other stairs.  I have scaled

the points of the compass, plummeting

from them all.  Success dances and curls,

a whirlwind of dust careening 

across a desert.  Laurels of the world 

glisten like distant stars.



My body is torn, my spirit bruised, my heart

sags and gasps.  Why claw at crags of air

to reach a vapor trail, to hold

the mist in my hand?



What is success, but loving

Yeshua, my Lord?  What are laurels

but a crown of life, and

his hand in mine?



--Marilyn Black Phemister

 

Copyright 1997 by Marilyn Black Phemister

Note: "Yeshua" is the Hebrew name "Jesus."