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Friday, June 6, 2014

The Winds of Pentecost

1977 Lexington, Kentucky

By Susan Fox

The Word is come,
riding with the sons of thunder;
past the hills of crystal morning,
it flashes to the sea.
The Word is fire,
spoken in the sunrise;
it burns the living malice
of an old discarded flesh.  
It turns the rats
from the gutter,
bringing forth a clean Wind
against  an old sloth.

Call the Wind.
It comes,
struggles from a mouth
and repeats itself
in many languages.

The beggars of the earth
are deaf to thunder;
they sit with the fat rats
of the mighty gutter
and burn incense at their local altar.

We are unclean.
Go to the church and pray:
Weep for the dead lies
of our nations.

we offer our hands;
In our lives,
the Word is finally spoken.


  1. Yes let the winds of heave blow on us to joy and celebrate for new pentcost that last time when heaven will give his gift in power and healing in revival to live in pleasure of God and be thankful in feast of heaven to joy and be glory to God,in Jesus name,thanks and bless,keijo swedan

  2. Keijo. Thank you for reading my blog. Your comments are always wonderful. You bless us with your presence. God bless you and your family! Susan Fox

  3. This is a great poem.Very profound! Makes one stop and ponder over the deep meaning embedded in in each verse. Grateful for sharing it. God bless.