Pomegranates

Red Seduction 

 No, you are no fair maiden, secretively bathing, surrounded only by the evening air. You are standing boldly, your arm outstretched, ready to deliver your delights.

The moment I first saw you I was seduced. I had to have you. I had to taste the sweet nectar you had to offer. The royal blood red of your seduction. You jezebel, you! Can I taste you now?

But alas, no. The marching flag at the head of our small group would not wait, would not stand still. That which is up ahead is awaiting us. It kept moving forward, striving towards the next, leaving me no time to tarry and taste.

But you would not go away. Should I be in the Shepherds' Field; you were there. You came with me to Bethlehem to remember the Saviour's birth. Should I climb the walls of the Holy City; you were there. In every alley, Arab, Jew, Christian, your arm was there beckoning, welcoming me. Even in the coolness of the Garden tomb, your agent was here, on a tree, smiling, tempting.

Hidden shyly behind the leaves of the tree but still ed and appealing.

For how long, oh, for how long shall we be apart?

You hid in the walls of God's own synagogue, even in the city where Jesus walked, talked and taught. There in the ruins of the Capernaum holy place you lay, rejected, but reaching. I smiled, walked away, waiting for another time, another place.

Carved in stone looking down on Jesus as he attended his synagogue.

 And I am weak. I could not refuse you. Here on the shores of the Dead Sea, I tasted of your sweetness, of your coolness. Here beside the Dead Sea, you brought life back into my tiring, salty, thirsting body.

Here beside the Dead Sea I had finally tasted your delights and was satisfied.

Plump, red pomegranates.

( Note.  An alternative version of this post would read as follows: After a few days thinking, " I wouldn't mind a glass of that," finally at the Dead Sea I did have a glass of freshly pressed pomegranate juice.)