The Triple Crisis

Although this Prayer-Poem was authored recently, it summarizes a series of visions and prophetic words received months prior to the Triple-Crisis of COVID-19, unrest around the 2020 election, and the social justice reckoning around the killing of George Floyd.

The Prophetess and I, in Fall before The Fall,
Inner-eye seeing what landscape Spirit knows,
Saw Three Things to be while yet over horizon:

First, to the East, disease intent on oppression,
Above the seat at Fort Clinton rising to war.
I asked the Lord what name: "Azazel" He gave,
Of Enoch legend: once-creating angel cast down,
The first who taught men the ways of killing,
Now in the place where sons bend wills of sons.
But also his art is always to teach seduction,
Warfare of flesh against flesh, horned Baphomet,
Androgynous now, image turning all love to lust.
Dialectic evil: Lion devouring or snaring Leviathan.
Making same as each, Blue and Red, Left and Right.

Second, to the South, where springs of water,
Dragon rising brazen, bearing Seventh Hated Sin.
Like Li Hongzhi stirred sleeping mountain towns,
Spin disseminating: QAnon, The Jab, John Barron,
Meritocracy rising, making nativist, populist claim.
Claiming theft of crown, calling to his 'fight ever on'. 
But not without answer, boldest outrage awoken,
Scranton's son lifts awkward banner stitched to dread,
Divided houses, families, friends -- Bride beside herself,
The Star Spangle people a context torn and torn again.

Third, to the West, over Quick's bloody, monstrous grave,
'A cry against exploitation', born on the Seer's dream.
Saw he slick vans, like new Gestapo, agents inhabiting,
Grabbing mouths for justice to silence and disappear.
They spoke for the breathless, said Black Lives Matter,
Joined to #MeToo and Pride's Rainbow Revolution.
Far the cry was, in cities burning but still blood flowed,
A dawning of a generation: the Universe-way is born,
Trans-migrating into new identities, cyborg awaiting.

'What now?', I ask seeing this three-cardinal breaking,
'Does hope remain alive toward the Northern climes?'
His reply is promise, "North is named Room to Grow."