|Photo credit: drericz.com|
THIS OLD BIBLE
It’s not one of those expensive
gold edged, leather-bound volumes.
Its margins are filled
with scrawled notations
gleaned from personal revelations
and years of teaching
under Jonathan and Wayne.
There are yellow highlights,
asterisks, exclamation points, arrows,
underlines, sometimes double underlines,
sometimes double underlines in red ink.
There are little line drawings, dates,
Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic
prayers copied on blank pages in front,
prayer cards tucked in its pages,
a few notes and letters.
Its pages have lost their brightness
from handling and caressing,
they’ve absorbed tears,
There are jagged pen slips
many index labels have fallen off.
Its spine has been repaired
again and again.
It doesn’t look like anybody’s treasure.
When I pass on,
there might be a little money,
property, some poems.
There might be a few pieces
of inexpensive jewelry.
You’ll rummage through
the way we did when Grandpa died,
when lots of things were thrown in dumpsters,
lots of things were divided up and given away.
You may be tempted to toss this book,
but, no, no, I know you’ll know
this old battered Bible
is the most valuable possession
I’ll leave behind.
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