Shekinah

 Shekinah

john clare 

Down on north Marion

In the vacant lot

The walls were rent

On the gospel tent.

The sisters proclaimed

The Holy Ghost was to blame

Fiery tongues on all touching

Skeptic deacons demurred

Offering earthly explanations

Tinkling brass and cymbals banging, the gospel band

Played on, proofed from the

Fire, paid to stoke the flame,

Beating and repeating

Beating and repeating

The brick and mortar Methodists were appalled with it all

Calling it exhibition

Certain their God would 

Never dwell in unsafe, repurposed circus tents

But stoic,reverent-like, behind fine stained glass,

Diffusing beautifully the blinding wild light.

In days to come

The debate will linger on

into future dispensations,

While up in Waycross the smell of burning wafted down:

Was it the from the Okeefenokee

Burning?

Or the Holy Shekinah burning  down the circus tent?

The deacons up there I'm certain can explain the Lions roaring.