Making of a Prophet

Making of a Prophet

Laura Howard

You need gasoline and matches and a bush
that won’t die even if god
the father the pharaoh wants to kill it.

Find families, slaves to shaping bricks.
Give them hell and watch
—the flames can’t make it through the bark.

Mother trusted me to her God
and a basket of grass, praying the flood wouldn’t
get to me, uninformed of the fire.

I’m drawn out of the river but the Nile
meets the Jordan in me now; together, turned to blood,
another plague for the earth.

Son of god, son of slave, and heir to neither; me, murderer,
run to another family not mine. I find sheep
are easier to rule than step-brothers.

Yahweh found gasoline, matches and a bush
that won’t die—rooted in sand, on fire, still green.
It should be dead already. I know what that’s like.

Set-apart ground, set-apart soul.
Is the bush just as lonely? Hush now—
holy. Shoes off.

He’s got plenty of plagues up his sleeve,
and I’m not one of them, he says. A blessing
instead. My mouth won’t work, yet

I’m headed for a lifetime of words, a homeless
man to lead his family of foreigners home. He wouldn’t
send someone else. I want to warn them:

Some plagues can’t be avoided, even with
blood painted on your doorframe, unless
the blood spilt is mine.

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Laura Howard
Writer & Theologian

Having earned her M.Div. from the University of Chicago and her B.A. in Philosophy and Biblical & Theological Studies from Wheaton College (IL), Laura continues to pursue avenues of learning and writing in Chicagoland. She has been published in Christianity Today and multiple Wheaton College (IL) publications. You can find her portfolio of writing, teaching, and artwork at ekbedah.com.

Photography by Hans Isaacson