Missionaries – a poem by Philip Kolin

Missionaries


They sail to places where their congregations
have never seen a map to plant churches
in jungles, deserts, in rainforests, in countries
not easily reached, and sometimes closed.

Watches or clocks are useless in many 
of these places; time is measured in dreams 
or when animals migrate. Ants or water buffalo
can be the timekeepers. Or molting alligators.

To communicate with their new flock
they must learn to make sounds their ears
have never heard or eyes seen. They teach
catechumens to recite God's name 

in different dialects without alphabets.
They sing in harmony with shafts
of sunlight; no high sopranos here;
toucans, hornbills, parrots make up the chorus.

They carry rainbows in their Bibles and build
ambries decorated with plantain leaves and
raise special praying bees for sanctuaries.
They use mists and moss to teach Gospel lessons.

The know God's gathering places and where
to hunker down when storms, earth slides, or
floods try to overcome their will to believe.
They inscribe epitaphs on bamboo tombstones.

Philip Kolin is the Distinguished Professor of English (Emeritus) and Editor Emeritus of the Southern Quarterly at the University of Southern Mississippi. He has published over 40 books, including twelve collections  of poetry and chapbooks. Among his most recent titles are Emmett Till in Different States (Third World Press, 2015), Reaching Forever (Poiema Series, Cascade Books, 2019), Delta Tears (Main Street Rag, 2020), Wholly God’s: Poems (Wind and Water Press, 2021), and Americorona: Poems about the Pandemic (Wipf and Stock, 2021).

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