Over at dVerse Poets Pub, we are sharing our retelling of myths with a modern slant. I took a biblical story from the Old Testament which I’ve always had problems with (blind obedience does not sit well with me) and gave it a contemporary reading.
So Abraham took Isaac’s hand and led him to the barren hilltop
with view unimpeded,
deckchair aligned for a demanding god
to witness ultimate devotion.
Higher and higher they mounted:
in altitude
in death toll
in bare-faced wails and covered eyes
He was bound – he did not ask to be martyred.
Your son is not my son.
How easy to sever limbs you’ve proclaimed not your own!
Yet our sinews are joined,
through our arteries the same venom pulsates.
One cut and history bleeds out unchecked.
‘I was only obeying orders.’
Where is the word to halt, the hand to tremble?
Have they not proved enough to this rancorous Master?
findingtimetowrite 