Mount Zion

by Richard Stoltzfoos

A Meditation on Temples, Smartphones, and Revelation 15

I wander through the portal’s glow;
My wonder for the sun and sod
Is lost; please tell me, if you know,
Where I can go to find my God.

I built my portal out of sand,
And still sand glitters in the stuff,
A ready door to Unreal Land—
O God!—to just almost enough.

I want to run, to hurl my hands
At purpose; but I wander still.
The portal coolly sends commands,
And I collapse in mind and will.

So figure. Draw a man of lines,
A circle for the head—the part
Not largest, but we in our signs
Enlarge the mind and shrink the heart—

I have not learned what strict defines
A man, but breathing word; for when
I sat to draw a man with lines,
A poem murmured from my pen.

To underfoot this mingled-flame
Glass sea, to overcome and stand,
To rule brute numbers with a name,
I need a harp of God in hand.

Where is Your tabernacle, Lord?
I search for where Your presence lies.
I seek Your temple, God; afford
One glimpse to my uplifted eyes.

Along the morning hills no glint
Of gold rewards my gaze and plea;
A silhouette appears. I squint,
And find an old friend come to me.

In quiet dawn, we watch the land,
And talk of sun and breath and light.
Among the cedar trees we stand,
We badgers two, in black and white;

As fire flashes from his eye,
His breath turns smoke in the biting cold;
The scarlet cardinal flits close by,
And sunbeams fill the trees with gold.

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Richard Stoltzfoos is the son of Adin,
son of Wilmer,
son of Elam,
son of Moses,
son of Samuel,
son of John,
son of Christian,
son of Nicholas Stoltzfus,
who in the year 1766 emigrated from Europe,
being born of Christian Gottlieb Stoltzfus,
of the Saxon line of that name
which began in the year of our Lord 400,
by the provision of God, in German Saxony.

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Photography by Kenneth Godoy