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Two Poems by Isabel Chenot: "Job 10:9", and "Mark 2:28

Job 10:9

In this land where I yearn for You,

dust comes to rest

more expeditiously, and to accrue

more substance than my weakening protest

can undo.

It settles on the desk, and on the arms

of chairs: on walls

it dims the mirrors t​ill our forms

are bleared. Sun flecked accrual


from shaken pillows. Coverlets

are burdensome with dust.

So the regrets

gather on mind’s crust,

thicker than cerements:

garments too

heavy for my shrunken thought to wear.

In this dry land, my father’s God, I yearn for You —

Someone to lift what settles here

instead of dew.

Mark 2:28

Your voice I listen to, tenderly

speaking – not the awful

thundering of old –

whisper of light

at day-close, while an hour’s gold

is spun on tasseled grain —

Your voice is life. It spoke

first day and night – it tells the breadth

of my divided meaning

in Your Sabbath.

What do You wait

to whisper when I’m told?

Listen to me. Only a small voice

stammering lost words,

unless the Wind which moves

the grain You pluck, my Lord of rest,

carries Your whispering of me

when I am dust.


Isabel Chenot has always known poetry as one of the most expressive forms of hope, and is grateful for opportunities to share that again.

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