This entry is part 4 of 8 in the series Speak to Me?
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Adarah

written by: Bob Jensen

@FirstTimeSinceA

performed by: Mae Moore

@moremaemoore

 

 

There is no dove
To fly across the sun
When the cruel dawn
rains fire upon Aleppo
Nor epiphany upon
The Holy road
The burning highway
Blindly searching for Damascus

Outside the city’s horrors
A thousand salty pillars
For they could not avert their eyes
From the dawn’s phosphoric skies
Come to purge the naked children
Fleeing in the night
Divine retribution
Or dark abomination
No difference
To their urgent, desperate plight

And yet
There is still one lamb
Unblemished
Of only seven years
Adarah
With the tiny face of an angel
Her abaya torn
Her feet bare and bloody
Her belly empty

This day she found
What was left of her father
In the rubble
His brains exposed
Like some vulgar idea
Her only sister
Abida
In his arms
A cold unblinking witness
To the vagaries of hate

And yet, she has not cried
Nor questioned the heavens
From whence this hell descended

Like Joan of Arc
She stands in the centre
Of a firestorm
That scorns her gentle faith
And somehow finds comfort
In the privilege of prayer

Her voice is strong and pure
Her faith is undiminished
Her heart, unselfish
As she begins to seek
As she begins to knock
As she begins to ask you
As she has all summer long
With thankful heart
To put an end
To the rain of terror
To the blitzkrieg of hatred
To the endless suffering

And though she does not doubt you
The bombs have not stopped falling
The obscenity of hatred
Prevails across the land
And the supplications of Adarah
Go unanswered

Those of us with lesser prayers
Those of us with lesser troubles
Those of us beneath peaceful skies
Are left to wonder
What is prayer for?

For if one so small and pure
Can raise an unwavering voice
From the very heart of darkness
From the eye of the firestorm
Without vacillation
To thank you for petitions
Yet unanswered
What are we to make of
Your covenant of faith and prayer?
Two thousand years on
Those who have not seen
And yet believe
Clutch that tiny mustard seed
Like a lifejacket
On the high seas
Of heartache and misfortune

For until the unrequited prayers
Of Adarah have been answered
Every other wisp of entreaty
Of lesser faith
Of lesser ordeal
Must surely stand behind her
In deference and homage
Until the fealty
Of one who has perfected praise
Can look upon a clear and quiet sky
Where no dove would fear
To fly across the midday sun

Bob Jensen

Bob Jensen

Bob Jensen has been writing poetry, music and prose his whole life.
He currently resides in Prince Edward Island, Canada where he works as a booking agent for folk musicians from around the world.
His award winning novel, The Matchbox Funeral, is available on Amazon.
Bob Jensen

Latest posts by Bob Jensen (see all)

Mae Moore

Mae Moore

Born in Brandon, Manitoba, Mae Moore started writing songs at a very early age and had a string of radio hits and critically acclaimed recordings in the 80s and 90s. She is known for her trademark sound featuring open tunings on acoustic guitar mixed with straight ahead pop melodies and an
ethereal voice and seamless harmonies. Her most successful album, 1992's 'Bohemia', was an international hit, although her other albums have been successful mainly in Canada.
Mae is also a visual artist and lives on Canada's west coast.
Mae Moore

Latest posts by Mae Moore (see all)

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