I Remember a Time In June

Image by globalrain

I remember a time in June

The prophet always came telling us about His comeback

He danced to the music of the spirit he heard

We never heard the music

“He is a mad man” I looked up at Mama as we stopped at his spot to hear what he had to say

“Why?” She looked at me with amazement in her eyes

“He dances to no tune. He shakes like an epileptic”

‘Ssshhhhh!” she said as she dragged me away from his place by the street corner

With our heavy load of our market goods we journeyed home, I with a bigger burden than I carried

I remember a time in June

When the prophetess woke us up with a loud shriek in the middle of a coming morning

I remember my little brother waking up agitated.

“It’s the prophetess again” I cooed him back to sleep

“But why does she scream like that?” he asked in a sleepy voice

“Maybe she’s inhabited by demons unseen”

We laughed as he rested his head back on the old pillow to get some more sleep

But now our cities are safe

Mad men don’t do dances anymore at street corners

But now our brothers sleep in peace

Inhabited women don’t scream the message at early waking hours anymore

But this doesn’t change the message

No it doesn’t

If He comes back to a people rejecting to hear His message because of the ‘frantics’ of His prophets; who is to be blamed?

In times like this I will play the wise man

I will keep my head under my June umbrella

Remembering the dance of the prophet and the shrieks of the prophetess

Whether they are mad or possessed is not for me to say

Their message is my concern

Their message: “Jesus is coming very soon”

My Question: “So what have I been doing about that?”

P.S. – For a culture that lures us to forget the message of the Lover (even within the four walls of the cathedral). We might choose to or not to listen, But the truth in the message never changes. Very soon Jesus the Lover comes for His Beloved. And what are we doing with that message? Or are we carried away by the ‘frantics’ of the prophets? Maybe it’s the gravity of the things they see that makes them dance like the ‘epileptics’ we call them.