Poetry Corner – Ishmael

AND Ishmael crouched beside a crackling briar 
Blinded with sand, and maddened by his thirst, 
A derelict, though he know not why accursed. 
And lo! One saw, and strung the dissonant lyre, 
Made firm his bow unto the arrow's spire, 
And gave him dates and wine. Then at the first 
Flushings of dawn Ishmael arose, and burst 
To triumphing freedom, ran, and eased desire.

His domain was the desert. None tamed him. 
None bought or sold his spirit, though his hand 
Dripped red against the dawn and sunset stain.

Thrones melted, kingdoms passed to the world's rim. 
But Ishmael scourged the lion in Paran land, 
And kept his faith with God. And he will reign.

- Herbert Edward Palmer