Poetry

By Joel Passey


The Call of Melchizedek

“Yes, that is my full name.”
The three gather around me
In a focus of fire. As they settle
Their hands on the matter
Of ordination,
I close my eyes and feel the
Weight of holy hands reaching
Down through millennia
To touch me here and now.
A vision clears behind my burning
Eyes and I see the chosen hands
Crowning the heads
Of dispensations
As my elders make me in their own image.
They pronounce a whispered promise
That expands the inner ears of my heart.
My shoulders stand straight to take
The new burden of the Priesthood and
Daniel’s onward rushing dream
Overtakes me in fulfillment, and I weep
as I hear a distant voice
So near declare me
Its defender.