The writing was on the wall.
I had not forsaken the world
Therefore my name would be an everlasting reproach.
The wars of my childhood convicted me
As the gun I had fought wars with was pieced together
Before my very friends.
I awoke to hear a woman sighing in pleasure.
I had thought I had grieved my God…
But it was the sighing of a woman in pleasure.
Written on the wall was “Megiddo.”
Megiddo is a punishment for sinners.
I awoke from the dream
And cried out to my God,
“Do not make my name an everlasting reproach!”
He listened.
I had dreamt that I was a contemptible man.
That I had murdered.
That I had destroyed
I had committed adultery with every fair woman in the land.
Those who go out to war,
They shall be killed by the sword.
Those who tarry for their brother’s wife
They shall be put to death.
There was an overwhelming flood.
My dad and I were swimming
And the floods were up to our necks.
Great was the flood.
Beneath was my brother whose name I spoke aloud,
Who had drowned.
I had grieved because he had drowned.
My dad had said, “He hadn’t drowned.”
But, yea, he was drowned.
We both, however, my dad and I, were swimming strong
And survived the flood.
I sat at a church.
There was a band.
Those I knew who were listening, at my right side
Fled my side for another
Who tried to murder me,
But I had ministered the Gospel to him
And made great peace with him.
They fled to him
But the singer sung, “You should have let it go.”
She spoke of the world.
I had asked a prophet,
And he said, “Are you sure they didn’t leave
“To see the band better?”
“No,” I replied, “They left me
“To sit with that other man.”
I saw that same prophet in the Spirit
When he was but a lad,
And he said, “God will touch you.”
I trembled, knowing either good or evil awaited me.
Let God be my judge.
Not I, not the world
Not my brethren.
All I know is this:
“Jesus is the LORD,”
And with that,
I have failed many times before.
I have sinned many times before.
I have hated and called my brother “Raca”.
I will not call him “Raca” again.
I, rather, will say all this guilt belongs to me.
Though, I am not sure whether it does
Because I have no wont of it.
And if the guilt does belong to me
Lay it upon Christ, and not I.
Not I! Let me never have done
The things I have dreamt about.
B. K. Neifert 