Mark 1:1-13 Part 1 of 2

In a rare moment of quiet,
John’s disciples at his feet,
All in coarse hair garments,
Resembling John who preached.

Repentance to the crowds,
But also to his charge,
Young men who imitate,
Even the Baptist’s garb.

I was born of promise,
My parents were quite old,
My father was told of me,
While serving before the Lord.

The angel struck him dumb,
Until my day of birth,
My mother named me, and
My father backed her word.

He wrote his name is John,
Then his mouth was opened,
The town was in wonder,
Hope was born again.

But my parents died,
While I was still quite young,
No one could take me in,
To the Essenes I was flung.

They taught me the Scripture,
And they taught me discipline,
But no matter how I tried,
I was never home with them.

They dismiss the temple,
And those outside their sect,
But I still loved the people,
In the village that I left.

It was in the temple,
News of my birth was told,
In that very place,
My ministry foretold.

With the Essenes, I learned,
I grew to see anew,
I am thankful to them,
With them, God’s word proved true.

One of the disciples,
Scratched absentmindedly,
Where the itchy collar,
Lacked in nicety.

“Teacher, let me ask,
Are you the Messiah,
So long awaited for,
Israel’s desire?

Your birth recalls Scripture,
Isaac, Samson, Samuel,
Joseph and Moses,
Could you be Emmanuel?”

John the Baptist leaned forward,
A twinkle in his gaze,
“Very good, disciple,
But let me set you straight.

One comes who is far greater
Whose sandal I dare not untie,
I just prepare the way,
So all can see his light.”