Jericho

You had your followers,
institute window watchers
who told the guards your secrets
for a pocket full of un-swallowed calm,
yet still they came for you at night.

Non believers with hot Bourbon breath
would spit on your claims
hold cameras in your face
looking for a trace of divinity,
slowly rewinding each frame.

No one was ready
the day your father came,
his visit unlocked every door,
scuff the polished floor
with streaks of dug in heals,
dragged kicking into a pyre
that you climbed before the thunder bolt
and thick acrid smoke.

They called off the search 3 days in,
divers in the murk, looking for a sign
beneath waters where no one could survive.
They didn't know you had walked.