Call me Ishmael
Hate me if you will
Wish me into oblivion
I will not go like a hidden son
Because I am meant to exist
I feel my destiny
You call me a mistake
I am not
I am the fruit of the designs
of the great-grandmother of Judah,
I was mocked by her jealousy
She embittered her husband’s very son
I was undone by her
while my father looked away
I was mocked and rejected
but found by Yahweh in the rocky desert
He followed the hollow sounds of abandonment,
gave me sweet water
To wash down the sharp iron dust of rejection
There God gave me a destiny
a hope toward which I must plod
The Angel of the Lord
promised me greatness
progeny
Kings and Princes
among my descendants
His presence guided me in my youth
God gave me skill
made me an expert archer
To find the mark
and bring down the prey
As if to say
He wants my life sustained
God gave me a wife
and children
The best of Egypt
The richness of the Nile
I will find my way back
to Abraham
To the God of Abraham
and my God
Embraced as a worthy son
Dying to live and forgive
and be forgiven
Hate me if you will
But do not ignore me
Call me Ishmael.
Lamar Howell's Weblog 