Selection of Poetry and Prose by Joseph H. Chakkour
When you are to come… would you be a Jew among Jews, like the first time, a Muslim or a Christian reading the Bible or the Koran … How would we know it’s you? The Bible puts you on a cloud, surrounded with angels, John compared your approach to the one of a thief in the dark of the night …
Mark 3:16
And they shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of Heaven with power and glory.
Luke 17:23
And they shall say to you, See here; or, see there: go not after them, nor follow them.
Revelation 3:3
I will come upon thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee.
Would you be floating on a starry cloud,
Surrounded jealously by chanting angels from all around?
Would bugles of joy proclaim your long awaited advent
To the Four Corners of the world?
And would you intend us all
To see you from everywhere, at once?
Or would you come from a woman’s womb,
And, going through it all, grow to be the Son of Man,
With all the wisdom, patience and pain that it takes?
Would you, as they claim, come as a God?
Or, like the first time, you’ll just be a proof of His Might: a means in His hand, with His Holy Spirit by your side to bring all the incredulous Peters and Thomas back to faith?
Would you be part of a family?
And which family would you choose this time?
Or, as before, choose to be alone,
Because no one can understand your spirit and accept your prodigy…
No one can understand your lofty design, O Son of Man?
Or would you be “spiritually’ given a new name:
A name that will amaze us all,
With its beauty, its power, and its serenity?
Would you still talk to us in parables and figurative speeches?
Or tell us the truth as is, with no veil?
Are you ready yet?
Are we ready yet?
Or are you going to let us wait a little further in time?
Would you write your own memoirs?
Or let others dream them around, or collect them from mouth to mouth,
With all the changes they see fit to accommodate their ambition?
Would you tell us why no one then talked about your adolescent life?
Yes indeed, why no one mentioned those tender and critical years,
Those years of growing to be the Prophet that you were,
Since the beginning of time,
The Prophet you still are,
And will always be?
For there is only one Christ in Heaven and one Prophet on Earth
Either we call him Abraham, Jesus, or Moses.
Would they be the same?
Would they let you down, each in his moment of weakness?
And would you still lift them up to glory, as you did before?
Where would you rather be:
In the East, the West, the North, or the South?
Or would you come back to the “Land of the Prophets,”
The “Sacred Land,” the land of so many claims, pains and sorrows?
Or will you gather them all under your wings, the Temple of the Spirit?
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often have I longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings!”
Would they all welcome you at once as their redeemer?
Or would they all join hands to fight you again,
With all their force, their ignorance, and their disdain?
Would they drag you to jail,
Lash you with their hate,
Persecute you as a common criminal,
Then try to destroy every soul you would have saved?
But you will prevail!
How could you fail when God is on your side!
Your are that promised boon of yore we desperately await.
Too beautiful to be true!
You are from a “season-less” world,
Just passing by for a short period of time,
Seeking no glory other than serving the Divine!
Awhile and you will go,
Far above the Eternal Light,
Where Love has no pain and Ecstasy no restrain!
But tell me, beloved One of God,
Do you have to go through the ordeal again?
Oh Dear Lord, Why?
Haven’t you suffered enough?
And you have no sins to atone!
It must be ours then.
But are we worth those chains?
Oh God! Why do we keep killing our prophets,
Then build so many “myths” around them?
Will we ever learn?
Will we ever be able to recognize the “Breath” of God?
When you are to come …
You will find him there, in front of the Weeping Wall,
Praying God for the Messiah to send.
Would he recognize you?
Or would he tear his clothes again?
He did not believe in you then,
Why would he this time?
Do you really believe he has changed?
He is still striving to revive his “glorious past,”
On the same Sacred Land where he once renounced you.
It’s his land, he claims … bestowed unto him by God!
Two thousand years have passed,
Where did all the suffering go?
Would he rejoice to see Solomon’s Temple come to life,
Rising from the ruins of time,
From the ashes of existing shrines?
But, would it have the same glow?
… Or would it be just a glare?
Too much hatred and blood has tarnished the Holy City,
Do you think any Rabbi would listen to your message of love, compassion and humility this time around?
… Or would they treat you the way they treated you then?
But tell me, sweet lord,
If they insult and ill-treat you this time too,
Would you turn the other cheek?
… Or would you let your wrath blow?
They are more to be pitied than blamed, my lord,
For no people on earth suffered the way the chosen one did since your last advent!
When you are to come …
You will find him up there, in his minaret,
Calling his believers to prayer.
Or in his mosque, stooping in devotion toward the Kaaba, praying five times a day.
Or preaching from atop his minbar the words of the prophet,
Singing the virtue of charity and tolerance,
And stressing the need to treat equally their four wives in the sanctity of their homes!
They have been promised eternal life in heaven,
And seventy-seven virgins … to boot.
If you announce to him:
“I am the prophet, the one to come at the end of time.”
Would he bid you an “Assalamu-alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu,”
Or would he afford you a broad grin then accuse you of blaspheme,
Claiming that Mohammed, peace be upon him, is the last of the prophets?
Does he know that Adam, Abraham, Moses, Buddha, Jesus …
And you, the last Witness, are all One?
You did say: “Before Abraham was born, I am.”
You are the first!
You are the Last!
I don’t think he would even ask you for a sign,
To him, the “Jinn” is also capable of signs,
… So says his holy Koran!
Would you still insist?
And where would you draw the line,
When your sole desire is to propagate true Islam in the heart of these people?
When you are to come …
You will find him there in his big church,
Surrounded by his Apostles and Saints,
All dressed up … like in a masquerade!
He’s showering his Pax Vobiscum around,
… as though a manna from heaven,
Giving Your Flesh-and-Blood in Communion
… to a resigned and bored flock,
And bidding them to be generous to the paupers,
… before passing the collection saucers.
You will find him there in his confessional,
Half-asleep from indigestion,
Burping his absolution to all sins:
A few Paters and Ave Marias, lots of candles, some regrets,
And off they go, ready to party with the devil again!
Or over there with a dying man,
Giving him his last sacrament,
And blessing him with his Sacred Ointment!
“Now you can die in peace my son,”
He says in a reassuring voice to that dubious wretch,
“God’s angels are here to carry you to heaven.”
“Here lies a good man: a saved man,”
He says as a poignant epitaph!
And the richer is the dearly departed,
… the grander is the elegy of the pater!
Just to listen to him, you’d think
All Christians have a guaranteed ticket to heaven …
The good with the bad, the reverent with the reveler,
Providing they receive his sacraments holy
Before they close their eyes for Eternity!
Is it true?
Did you bestow those spiritual powers unto him?
Or, are we to be accounted for every deed, good or bad,
And be weighed in the scale of His Divine Justice?
If you tell this secondhand Pharisee,
“Who gave you that Divine power? I don’t recall ever teaching such inanity …”
Would he let you in presently,
And invite you to his confessional gently?
Or would he just slam the door in your face,
Claiming that you’re nothing but an idle fancy?
If you speak to him of God and His Kingdom Come,
Would he still insist on a sign from heaven?
And if you oblige him with one,
Would he kneel down at your feet and cry in shame,
Then beg you to absolve all of his past mistakes?
If you show him the “Right Way,”
Would he abide?
Or would he just pretend he has been hypnotized,
And, tearing his attire in rage,
Accuse you of doing the devil’s work,
And flash your crucifix in your face?
Would he then shout to all his devout followers,
With a loud vicious voice and a threatening fist,
“Here is the Anti-Christ in flesh and blood”?
Are you going to let this happen again?
Or would you sweep that canting father,
… Once and for all, out of your domain?
Would you thereon lift your fiercest scourge against all those who transgress God’s most sacred commandments,
… Like you then did in the Temple of Jerusalem?
They made you a symbol of kindness and forgiveness,
To lull us into complacency and put our fears to sleep,
All the while they turned your domain into a den of thieves
… And a clique of unforgivable perverts!
Somehow, this time around …
I don’t see the cross as your creed … but the scythe!
Nor do I see easy forgiveness in your weary eyes,
… But grapes of wrath against the wrongful and unjust!
But, tell me sweet lord,
Is it too late for us?
Isn’t it why you came?
When you are to come …
He is over there, living under the lavishly decorated and gilded Dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican City in Rome,
Protected by colorful and yet colorless folkloric Swiss Guards,
Like no king, no Prince on Earth … not even in the wildest fairy tales of One Thousand and One Nights …
Would dare to do nowadays … (To be followed soon …)
When you are to come… would you be a Jew among Jews, like the first time, a Muslim or a Christian reading the Bible or the Koran … How would we know it’s you? The Bible puts you on a cloud, surrounded with angels, John compared your approach to the one of a thief in the dark of the night …
“Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, May you come with me from Lebanon. Journey down from the summit of Amana,
From the summit of Senir and Hermon, From the dens of lions, From the mountains of leopards.” << Song of Solomon 4:8 >>
The Daheshist Mission emigrates to the Land of the Free
I am that lonely pilgrim I am that lonely pilgrimLost in yonder trails,A wayfarer,In search of the Holy Grail! In vain …I roamed the distant
Copyright © 2009 Georges H. Chakkour – Tous droits réservés