Kaleigh Bowie

The Dedication

Solomon prayed on his knees,

shouting to Yahweh

to be pleased and come dwell

in their midst,

in the house they’d built.

Trumpets, tambourines,

drums thumbed in welcome,

blaring to break

through blue atmosphere,

purple, ringed fingers

stretched in praise,

calloused hands,

stomping boots,

Hiram holding

his aged mother’s hand,

singing with the band

and leaning against

Boaz;

priests slashing,

cymbals crashing,

girls trained to dance

leaping through each sash;

red Jerusalem filled with hearts

racing to see their God.

Holy Spirit rushing in

a hot wind of fire,

setting ablaze each

cheek, flash of orange in

three million eyes

consuming thousand-strong sacrifices.

Emmanuel has arrived.

Cedars of Lebanon

Bird-songs echo, cutting

through green needle layers

packing Lebanon’s floor

and webbing its skies,

cutting clean through April’s

baby blue air where

cedars’ ridge-wrapped

strength stands safe,

till Israeli lumberjacks

10,000 strong tramp

through the forest, whistling

harmony to Oriole

while Shrike laughs

that they’re off-tune.

Thirty Hebrew

dialects sound while the

temple’s walls, floors, and doors

in original form fall heavily

in hallelujah.

Maybe Yahweh thought then

of Jesus falling for a new temple

in our hearts, built of love,

overlaid in grace. Does wood remember?

Will you, cedar, worship too when

priests’ incense swings sweet your way

and the light of seventy candlesticks

reflects on your bare face?

Or will you whisper curious and taunted

beneath your gold overlay—peeking into

God’s presence?

Will the Spirit seep through the cracks

to thank you for your service?

Vessels of Sacrifice

Pedaling

around and around,

water slipping against palms,

seeping through braced

fingers—water to hand, hand to clay,

clay to wheel,

wheel to drumming foot.

The shape rises and descends

in bows; the potter teaches

purpose in the making.

Sticky hands embrace

the form meant to catch

dripping crimson,

somber liquid

hot like the sinner’s shame,

the shepherd’s sorrow,

and the Creator’s aching wrath.

Kaleigh Bowie is a musician, poet, and painter from West Virginia who seeks to glorify God through her artistic expressions of the everyday. She holds a BA in English from Fairmont State University and is a graduate of the Students for Life Hildegard Art Fellowship. Her poetry and paintings have appeared in Fairmont State’s Whetstone literary journal. She is blessed in marriage and has a ten-month-old daughter, Clover.