This is a rough draft of a poem I've worked on over the course of a year. It took me a while to find a picture that matches what I was seeing when I wrote it, but I'm very satisfied with the one found! I began the poem hardly even knowing what the ancient ruins stood for- only knowing it was something lost and hoped for. It helped me get through a rough time, and reminded me so much of Israel's exile. I have come to think that, for me, the foundation is a promise. Once lived in, once exiled from, and once more returned to. The poem is a bit too long, and I definitely want to change a couple stanzas, but that's ok. At some point, I want to edit it so that it is much more parallel to Israel's exile. But here it is:
The Ancient Ruins
A poem of redemption
In the distance she stands-
Beaten and beautiful.
The wind makes its mark in the grass and clouds surrounding her,
But she stands calm.
I make my way slowly down the overgrown path.
Heavy beads of rain speckle the wild grasses
As the storm chases the horizon.
My feet remember their tracks,
Though the ground is washed and softer now.
And there she stands...
Her walls bare a deeper grey than before-
Their color enriched by the showers.
The stone is wet and cool,
Leaving tiny granules shimmering on my fingertips.
A bird flies overhead.
Her ceilings are gone now and light dances freely
On her mossy floor bed.
The tiny wild flowers were not there when last I saw her
In the dead of winter.
It was a time of warfare.
Her foundations rumbled with the shouts of battle cries
And the reverberations of harsh horns.
A heartless and ruthless enemy surrounded her,
Blasting holes in her impenetrable walls.
She was dying back then.
We were both dying.
Her strongholds crumbled before our eyes
And the stinging sounds of steel weapons weighted us with fear.
A merciless enemy scaled her walls,
And a jealous God struck at them with hot lightning.
We abandoned her to escape enslavement.
How long did we mourn our exile?
How hot were the seas we cried?
We clung to her memory and were slow to receive the blessings
Of a jealous and generous God.
She was all we had known.
But seasons passed, time proved faithful,
And we slowly found our joy.
We were surprised to find that hope had not been slaughtered within her walls
As we had once believed.
Her loss was a painful entrance to a deeper hope.
Foreign lands with fertile soil became our homes;
They were new, but they were warm.
They made room for us and took us in,
And we did our best to do rightly by them.
Still, we remembered her and were better for it.
I remember thinking back on her-
Before they stormed her gates,
When we were obedient and peaceful.
I dreamed, though scared, to see her yet.
A faithful God rendered me jealous for her.
I was scared, somehow, to find her gone-
That there would be no remnant, no remains.
But His jealousy had taken hold,
And I could not resist Him.
So I left for a land that may no longer exist.
The way was long, and the road was rough,
And every step was hard.
Fear meddled with a timid hope,
And nearly won me over.
Still, He led me forward.
With blinders now, I make my way-
Crossing forgotten rivers.
Every pebble shifts under my weight
As though it remembers me.
My throat swells as I reach the place where she should be.
But there she stands- these ancient ruins-
Beaten and beautiful.
The wind makes its mark in the grass and clouds surrounding her,
But she stands calm.
"May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy." Psalm 137:6
