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The Progression Concept
a project by jonathan delucia…
the son of David, the son of Jesse,
the son of Obed, the son of Boaz,
the son of Salmon, the son of Nahshon,
the son of Amminadab, the son of Ram,
the son of Hezron, the son of Perez,
the son of Judah, the son of Jacob,
the son of Isaac, the son of Abraham,
the son of Terah, the son of Nahor,
the son of Serug, the son of Reu,
the son of Peleg, the son of Eber,
the son of Shelah, the son of Cainan,
the son of Arphaxad, the son of Shem,
the son of Noah, the son of Lamech,
the son of Methuselah, the son of Enoch,
the son of Jared, the son of Mahalalel,
the son of Kenan, the son of Enosh,
the son of Seth, the son of Adam,
Adam’s father was God.
The scribe’s diary:
(found 61 feet from his most epic rendering, the breath of God, the hand of the prophets)
Fear in adoration, rage to uproar this holy moment
In sweat of scarcity,
my hands are shaking in their movement of this moment’s prophecy.
Our master, from his chambers returns to us anointed.
Robe is wet with oil and salt, skin is bleached from the Sun.
His lips are quivering…
Speak, oh son of things to come,
From your words, a bed for the messiah.
“The spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me.
He has equipped me to bind the broken hearted.
To restore to them a crown for ashes…”
Selah
Slicing vellum with feather tip sticks,
Not one utterance missed or misunderstood.
“To open the prison doors to those who are captive.
To appoint unto them who mourn for Zion.”
Amen
The same ink that branded our palms now spills like blood.
I have bathed in blood outside the city walls.
Thorough tears, he sings his burden
And in his last breath, falls to physical emptiness,
For his mouth has created boneless legs.
His welling eyes are static from the unveiling…
+
The lamb enters,
wearing the linen that will sweep the streets of Jerusalem.
The fabric that by touch, will stop the bleeding.
Hood raised upon his brow, folded in symmetry like the cross.
Among my children and fathers,
The scrolls are spread, dividing us.
Many priests and honorable leaders have entertained this temple with holy theater,
But this is no actor.
With palms on paper, his words drop like authority:
“The spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me…
to provide for them the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair…”
“This has been fulfilled today in you hearing.”
…and with the scrolls, we were divided.
…some of us gathered palm branches, some stones.
…some followed home, and served meals of blasphemy, heresy and contempt.
…some wove sandals for our children,
because promise is walking so we will walk.
In a great darkness, we have seen a light.
And this son of David has perfected the sling,
for he himself is a shepherd.
He has followed the lines of his human torso,
For he himself is a carpenter.
He is born from us and knows our fathers.
I am writing as those before me, as if to believe that words are capable of creation.
The one whom he loved.
…as if to raise a dead man’s thoughts.
The one whom he loved.
…as if to see for himself the physiology of prophecy.
The one whom he loved.
On vellum, lines are paved in the earth like veins.
Our earthly treasures, stored in clay vessels.
Seeds lie dormant in the earth until summoned.
Ó 2008 Jonathan DeLucia, all rights reserved