The Call of Isaiah

When the leprous King Uzziah died he took
his prosperous reign into the mists of history;
the peace and security of fifty years
collapsed beneath the threat of encroaching Assyrians.

That’s when I saw the thousand flaming seraphs
surrounding the One upon the throne;
their thundering voices shook the Temple posts
with the constant refrain: Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh!

My liquid knees collapsed beneath the weight of fear,
undone and unmade; I am obliterated by a vision
of the unseen God. I am an unclean man
with unclean lips living among a polluted people.

A six-winged seraph took burning coals from the altar fire
and flew through the glowing Shekinah cloud,
sizzle and smoke as he scorched my lips
Your guilt is gone; you’ve been set free.

         Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?

And as small as I am, I spoke with fresh-seared lips
‘Here I am. You can send me.’
With tremulous legs I stood to receive the word,
conscious of the Divine mercy that held me in place.

         Go and speak

But they’ll not listen. Speak and they won’t hear;
show them, but they’ll refuse to see.
Harden their hearts and dull their ears
or they might understand, change and be healed.