dedicated to Anita Morrow for her call yesterday and for knowing me as no one else does: better, sometimes, than I know myself

"Do you feel like John the Baptist,"
she asked  of me.
"You speak God's truth, you see;
yet, it falls on deaf ears,
as tho crying in the wilderness.
God told me to say this clear:
Keep speaking to their fears."

So quiet in thought
I remained,
not sure what was to be gained.
Then she added, "I see your great
love for all and me.
You wish all would find
His tenderness.
God told me to say this to thee:
You forgive the worst so easily."

Still, I could not speak in denial,
as I recalled John's trial.
She said, "I'm sick of being angry
o'er past slights.
You've taught me instead to give
His kindness.
God told me to say this in His light:
You've never held back from My blight."

 Quiet tho I was, uplifted and
encouraged I became.
She laughed, "John should be
your name!
For you cry upon a world
with deaf ears,
as though weeping in the wilderness.
God told me to say this to thy tears,
You love Me so totally, My dear."

She laughed again, "I can hear
all their slurs,
as tho you eat locusts, hair wild,
bundled in furs.
Still, the world is blind and deaf,
twice dead;
but, Jesus will come as you
do witness."
Finally, I laughed and to her I said,
"Yeah, they probably
will cut off my head."

We laughed, I and this old
friend of mine;
for even amidst persecution,
on humor we dine.
Yet, her words, so profound,
left me twice alive.
So often alone in His
mission, then I hear His witness,
"God told me to say this so you can fly,
I AM with you, my Son and I."