Poem for Impending Rapture, Perhaps by Kazim Ali
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> What I want to know is: of all the people preparing to be taken in the rapture why is no one as brave as my current heroine, the wife of Lot, who refused to follow to be saved and instead turned back to save others.
By gsa123 https://www.reddit.com/r/...

Poem for Impending Rapture, Perhaps by Kazim Ali

by gsa123

> What I want to know is: of all the people preparing to be taken in the rapture why is no one as brave as my current heroine, the wife of Lot,

who refused to follow to be saved and instead turned back to save others.

If she was turned into a pillar of salt for her troubles,

why has it occurred to none that being turned into this most valuable of substances in the ancient world could possibly have been meant as a reward? — “Marah’s Song/The Wife of Lot”*

Sundered and sinful, caught in the rain of fire

nearly devoured, now inch by long inch turning to salt,

that’s me, the blasphemer, Sodomite, unsure of what’s true

making a break for the shelter ahead,

wondering if it will ever sink in,

will I ever learn what we did wrong—

Drench me well, downpour, combust me to ash.

After the first deluge they lit the first fire

so now, after the city burns, a merciful downpour,

rain hitting the roof like an angelic stranger, but

who was I before the thorn of my birth pierced me,

before the thread of my death drew me through?

After the garden there was still the world,

since the womb cracked open and water poured through,

but before fire stitched me in salt to the ground, who was I,

before I traveled through a body into a body, who was I?

If I’m rain I should pray for a vessel to hold me,

If I’m vessel I should pray for the rain to fill me.

The storm has reneged on the deal to abate

and the fire itself seems eternal—

The last prophets boarded the ark for departure,

but this time amid fire I am the water—

You are ahead of me fifty one paces,

leaning on our daughters hoping they’ll hold you—

This time I cannot follow you forward,

this time I look back to the city that’s burning,

and yes in that moment, doubting believer,

I was transformed into the most precious of matter,

when the first drops hit me first I was hollowed,

as the downpour commenced I could feel myself vanish—

I became one with the ground in the night of great fire

given life as a priceless pillar,

then slowly disappearing

into the infinity of water,

not curse, or condemnation one but

salt into water, an endless reward—

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