Prophesy to the Wind
“Prophesy to the wind, prophesy, son of man….” —Ezekiel 37: 9
Prophesy to the wind—for only the wind
Listens.
None in this dry, eviscerated land
Hastens
To hear; they’re deaf to prophecies, and blind
To demons.
I whisper warnings, breathe them through dry grasses.
Omens
Drone, distinct as old, familiar choruses.
Yet humans
Ignore the sounds of time’s repeating forces,
Dismiss
The shocking crescendo as history convulses.
They miss
What you, my prophet, hear: the martial marching.
You sense
The haunting chants that herald hordes approaching –
Their intense
Audible escalation, a bewitching
Cadence.
Their breeze-blown echoes (recklessly disregarded)
Advance
While navel-gazing people in disordered
Masses
Desire not to hear of swindlers’ sordid
Devices.
Fraud and spite press proudly on, unthwarted.
Voices
Of power gloat, resounding with the coming
Final
Confrontation that has long been looming.
Denial
Saturates the atmosphere, dooming
People
To a sinister, descending future.
Prophesy
Only to the wind, for men won’t hear.
Only free, unfettered air—
And I,
Who make both every wind and every ear—
Reply.
Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Michigan. Her third collection of poems, Foundations of the Cross and Other Bible Stories, was released in July, 2024 by Wipf and Stock Publishers. Her other collections are These Holy Mysteries and Notes on Time. Her poems have also appeared in First Things, Modern Age, The North American Anglican, The Orchards Poetry Review, The Book of Common Praise hymnal, The Catholic Poetry Room, and elsewhere.
A daring voice-of-God apocalypse, Cynthia, grounded only by the prophet as receiver of instructions. The message (which is given to him) seems to describe his unenviable dilemma of needing to prophesy, while certain his dire prophecy will remain unheeded. The lack of specific content suggests that this KIND of message presents itself continually to the created ear, mainly in mood and tone demanding attention to inexpressible spiritual dangers. Your line-structure, with its pronounced rhythm, regularly re-focuses on different single words, imitating a strong wind with its recurrent blasts and pauses.
Thank you so much, Margaret, especially for noticing that the single words imitate a strong wind. This is one of those cases in which I wasn’t aware of why I was using those single words in that way. I just had a strong sense of the pathos in this command of God’s to Ezekiel. It seems that so many of God’s favorite people in the Bible are treated so badly, or have to do things that seem useless. I don’t envy them!
Cynthia, I like to remember Elijah, who was bold enough to tell God he alone was not worshipping idols. God came right back and said, “No, I have seven hundred!” Prophesying to the wind does seem utterly useless, but God knows how and where his message is conveyed. You are right that God’s favorites appear to get bad treatment, but “useless” fidelity is probably very well rewarded. Your poem here, with those pulsations in God’s voice, suggests to me God himself putting words in the wind!
Cynthia — Margaret is a million times more qualified than I am to really critique this remarkable poem. But the one thing I’ll add is that the words “navel-gazing people,” being a phrase of a seemingly different character than the rest of the poem, made those words particularly powerful in my eyes. Thanks for contributing this work.
Thank you very much for your kind comment, Russel. I’m honored that you think it “remarkable”.
Spoken like a Prophet to a prophet. The rhythm is arresting, the imagery foreboding, the concept universal, and the piece as a whole reminiscent of William Blake’s “Ezekiel’s Vision”. Great work, Cynthia. Thank you.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful praise, Martin! I’m honored by the comparison to Blake. I’m not yet sure whether “Ezekiel’s Vision” is a poem or an engraving; I’ll do some research on it, though; I’d love to see it.
Very nice, Cynthia. I was particularly struck by the descriptive vocabulary throughout your poem!
Thank you, Paul. Ezekiel’s story is full of amazing imagery, which seems to demand description.
What an intriguing and beguiling poem. Intriguing because the meter challenges my ear, yet the musicality of the piece is masterly. I feel a little unsettled… by design, methinks. It has an air of mystique that makes me want to crack the code for the spiritual message that shines between the lines… and do I hear a the echo of a profound voice in the short lines? I’ve read those lines as a separate piece… ingenious! Cynthia, you never fail to engage my mind and my heart with your poetry. Thank you!
Thank you, indeed, Susan! I don’t think I’d thought of the short lines as a message in themselves; but for some of them it does kind of work! Yes, it seems the prophets’ messages must almost always be unsettling; I don’t envy them for the very unpopular things they were required to say. I’m so glad you felt both a sense of musicality, and a sense of being “unsettled” coming through in the meter; I wanted both to be portrayed.
In this deeply polarised world, your wind is not the refreshing breeze we all wish for, Cynthia, but a warning to be heeded.
Thanks for the thoughtful and thought-provoking read.
Thank you for reading and commenting, Paul. I’m glad you caught the sense of this particular wind.
Very powerful Cynthia, and I particularly like the rhyming, sometimes para- and sometimes not, but it works very effectively.
I’m so glad, James— thank you!
Somewhere between poetry and prophesy, your poem is powerfully haunting, Cynthia. I don’t know the biblical prophets, but I suspect they would have been the serious poets of their day and your poetry is in that vein.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment, Paul. Yes, the prophets were powerful poets, and the messages they were given to pass on were indeed haunting, which must be why they required poetic language. The epigraph I used was the Lord’s response to the very poetic, and very haunting, vision Ezekiel had of the valley of dry bones that would come to life when God breathed the breath (wind) of life into them.
I really enjoyed the way you summarized Ezekiel 37. I’ve tried to read that chapter several times before and I don’t think I ever got through it entirely. It always brought to mind what Margaret pointed out about prophets being receivers of instructions that often seemed “useless”. I would typically stop reading at the end of verse 3 after Ezekiel was asked whether the dry bones could live. He cheekily replied with “you alone know”. After that, Ezekiel did what good prophets are supposed to do, and you have made the outcome much more accessible than I ever found it to be before. Thanks!
Warren, I’m so grateful for your comment, and honored that you’ve given me some credit for helping to make that story in Ezekiel more accessible to you. The resurrection of the dry bones is an incredibly dramatic, poetic, and symbolic story, which is probably why it is such a famous one. All of the prophetic books are so exquisitely poetic!
Cynthia:
Thank you for this gorgeous well-crafted poem that catches the urgency and inspired diction of the ancient Hebrew prophet Ezekial.
I’ve taken the liberty to suggest a re-format as follows (I can’t attach a word document–email me at [email protected] if you’d like to see my word document)
This re-format results in 21 long and sinuous lines, most of six or seven stresses, with 13 feminine endings. In the final 3 lines, when the Lord repeats his command (in line 1) there are 3 strong masculine endings. Throughout the poem, there are 14 full-stops. (A “Whitmanesque” poem, if you will–and many argue that Whitman was imitating the diction of the Old Testament in King James translation).
SUGGESTED RE-FORMAT
Prophesy to the Wind
“Prophesy to the wind, prophesy, son of man….”
—Ezekiel 37: 9
Prophesy to the wind—for only the wind listens. a
None in this dry, eviscerated land hastens a
to hear; they’re deaf to prophecies, and blind to demons. b
I whisper warnings, breathe them through dry grasses. Omens b
drone, distinct as old, familiar choruses. Yet humans b
ignore the sounds of time’s repeating forces, dismiss c
the shocking crescendo as history convulses. They miss c
what you, My prophet, hear: the martial marching. You sense d
the haunting chants that herald hordes approaching – their intense d
audible escalation, a bewitching cadence. d
Their breeze-blown echoes (recklessly disregarded) advance d
while navel-gazing people in disordered masses e
desire not to hear of swindlers’ sordid devices. e
Fraud and spite press proudly on, unthwarted. Voices e
of power gloat, resounding with the coming final f
confrontation that has long been looming. Denial f
saturates the atmosphere, dooming people f
to a sinister, descending future. g
Prophesy only to the wind, for men won’t hear. g
Only free, unfettered air—and I, h
Who make both every wind and every ear—
reply. h
The end-words of all lines are elegantly slant-rhymed (see my letters to the right of the lines). Your additional subtle slant rhymes are now embedded near the end of each line (similar, perhaps to a ghazal technique): wind/land/blind/ grasses/choruses/forces/ /convulses/ marching/ approaching/ bewitching/ disregarded/ disordered/ sordid/ unthwarted coming/looming/dooming/descending There’s a lovely doubling-up of internal rhyme in the final 3 lines: “hear” at the end of line 19 is slant-rhymed with “future” at the end of line 18 and also internally rhymes with “air” and “ear” in lines 20 and 21.
That final ominous word from the Lord: — “reply” — I’ve formatted on its own separate “line 22”–though it’s actually just a continuation of line 21–and you might place this word in italics, or perhaps capitalize it.
Since the Lord is the speaker, I’ve capitalized “My” in line 8 and “Who” in line 21.
Apologies if I’ve taken too many liberties–but my “editor self” is hunkered down in this monstrous zero-degree snowstorm!
Most sincerely,
Mary Jane
Thank you, Mary Jane, for your close reading and analysis of this poem. I’m pleased and grateful that you are interested enough in it to spend so much time with it. Your suggestion of including the single words at the end of the long lines is an interesting one to consider.
I really like Margaret’s comment above (the first comment), in which she observes that the poem’s “line structure, with its pronounced rhythm, regularly re-focuses on different single words, imitating a strong wind with its recurrent blasts and pauses.” This is an effect I want to keep in the poem, so I am going to leave it the way it appears here.
I, too, hope this snowstorm will end soon!
Wow! The unorthodox form of this poem makes possible the alternation of thoughtful notions and hard knuckular blows to the temple. The ontic accuracy of the sinewy enemy is only temporary, for the answer is blowing in the wind, ad the wind is atman.
Thank you, C.B.
A truly atmospheric poem, beautifully and expertly done. thank you.
Thank you, Maria!
This is an intriguing form — deceptively formal. Its interlocking of long and short verses gives a halting cadence that places special emphasis on the short line — appropriate for prophetic language. And the poem itself is haunting, capturing isolation that comes with knowing what other cannot see. This was a striking poem.