On Jeremiah 16:1-21

By Caleb Hill

In the likeness of His death, keep unlamenting silence,

weep alone without the comfort of common tears.

The wedding feast, the taste of peace

and lovingkindness, the bread and wine of real communion

are forbidden here, where all good voices have no sound,

no right to speak where mercy ceases, steadfast love

is lost and hell is found; but at the crossroads of creation

comes a crown, thorn-studded gold gleaming in the glory

of salvation; for the evening of obliteration

is the birthplace of the morning, the utterness

of dark and newly uncreated void becomes the song

and doxology of prophets, the throbbing soil

that flickers with the deepest roots of dawn.

---

Caleb Hill is a cyber security technician by day and poet around the clock. His quest to find out why poetry is important has produced few poems and an endless supply of unfinished essays. He chops vegetables to give his mind a break from writing. When that doesn't work, he buys fruit (he can go through a watermelon in an afternoon). He lives in central PA with one standing desk, one sleeping bag, and six treadmills.