Kingdom for a Horse

Mela Kirkpatrick
Saul’s horse knew the secret art
of conversion, the sudden buck
that throws a man so the back of his head
thuds the hard earth just so,
the momentary loss of orientation,
and then, above,
the quiet intensity of noon’s light
paralyzing the senses.
Perhaps modern evangelists
have forgotten the secret,
fearing that when their true task
is finished, they too
would just stand there, butt out,
stupidly chewing their bit,

while Saul—now Paul—
lies in the dust
enveloped in the Aramaic voice
of a blazing sun somewhere
on the road to Damascus.