#30 / Modern Day Prophet
Brightlines - issue #30
Brightlines is a personal writing project where I cultivate creative discipline and explore ideas that spark my curiosity. Each week, I share original writing, insights, and discoveries from the things that capture my attention. If you enjoy what you read, consider subscribing—I publish every Wednesday.
(Check out what I’m listening to here.)
Modern Day Prophet
"I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,
‘Make straight the way of the Lord'."
John 1:23
He doesn’t wear robes
or sandals with leather straps.
He wears a threadbare Dead shirt
And black rubber flip flops,
cracked and splitting.
He doesn’t eat locusts and wild honey,
but discarded slices of pizza
from behind uppity restaurants.
Menus with serif fonts,
cupped pepperonis curled like drying tongues,
sticky with cooled, red grease.
He doesn’t baptize in the Jordan,
but bathes in the Arkansas,
alone and under the stars,
or amidst the crowds
shopping the farmer’s market on weekends.
He doesn’t implore repentance,
but when the Spirit moves,
he mutters truth with conviction
to both no one
and everyone.
He walks Salida’s streets
with purpose known only to him
and God.
His hair is matted,
his beard unkempt.
His walking stick a gnarled branch,
a relic from cottonwood
long entrenched in the riverbank,
older than the town
and everyone in it.
His eyes flicker
like candles in the canyon,
crazed and darting,
refusing to be snuffed.
He sways with rhythm
to whatever frequency
still hums in his bones.
Oracle of the opioid age.
I saw him downtown last weekend
with four kids in tow
at the end of a long day.
He saw me coming,
tuned into my frequency,
hips shifted and pointed at me.
Stopping mid-sway,
he turned,
eyes wide,
as God’s mouthpiece,
he screamed:
“Life is a choice!”
“Right on, brother,” I said
surprised,
unsure how to respond.
He smiled and nodded slowly,
eyes piercing my soul,
certain I had received the message.
We walked on.
I don’t know if he meant
to say something so precise,
so cutting
to a father drowning in obligation
and faulty brain chemistry,
true in every way it can be parsed,
but the message came through clearly.
I know I needed to hear it. ◾