"Ballad of the Bones"
By Byron Herbert Reece (1917 - 1958)
Ballad of the Bones is a retelling of Ezekiel 37:1-10 by the American farmer Byron Reece. Because it is a longer poem, I won’t add any commentary at the end, but here are a few things to think about as you read it. First, this poem is a remarkable example of rhythm and momentum. Pay attention to how it draws you in and gets you to start reading faster and faster, eyes always jumping forward to the next stanza. I also think that the contrast between Ezekiel’s internal monologue, both explicit and implied, and his external obedience is worth meditating upon. Finally, I wonder if the last part of the poem (which the poet italicized) is a transition from the bones in the valley to a prophecy concerning the whole world.
I As I sat a-drowse At my very meek board, Why, who should arouse Me from sleep but the Lord. He entered my garret As a wind from the north, And in the spirit Carried me forth Over tower and town Of cobbles and and stones, And He set me down In a valley of bones. The bones were as dry As grass in a drought, And He said: "Pass by Them round about." And I passed by And the white bones lay As brittle and dry As shards of clay. And I passed by And the bones were strewed Brittle and dry, And a multitude. Shin bones here And thigh bones there, And arm bones, sere, And skull bones, bare! II O I stood alone At this very large grave Where bone from his bone Was fugitive - And the Lord: "Ezekiel, Can these bones live?" My mind's ha, ha! Had a scornful ring, But I clamped my jaw On such a thing! Shall a bone that has lain Till the flesh is gone Be quickened again To a living bone? Bones bent like a bow and fugitive? I thought, no, no, They cannot live! But I bowed my head And my thoughts in accord, And trembled and said: "Thou knowest, Lord!" III I shook as the wind Of the lord went blowing, As boneless and blind As water flowing; But His voice said When the blow was by: "Lift up thy head And prophesy. "Thou raiser of stones To the power of death, Say unto these bones, 'Ye shall draw your breath!'" I said to the bones: "Ye shall draw your breath!" "Thou shaker of thrones By the power I give, Speak unto these bones That they may live!" I said to the bones: "Thy God says, live!" "Soothsayer of men, Say on, say on, Call flesh and skin To cover the bone!" I said: "Flesh, skin, Come cover the bone!" "Ezekiel, My Truth, My Rod These bones shall live To call me God!" IV Something stirred And I lost my voice; I heard, I heard A little noise! I heard small moans As the wind would make, And I looked - and the bones Began to shake! As dry as faggots And dull and dun, And thick as maggots In carrion, With the sound of wind In icy weather The bones came rattling All together! From among the stones As dark as soot, The little bones To make a foot, With nought to teach Them to their place, Came each to each In an empty space! And from the stones, As clean as a peg, The large bones To make a leg! The strangest sight Since the world began, The bones all right To make a man! V When all the skeletons Were done The busy bones Grew still again. As a wood they were When winter grieves In the branches bare Of the shape of leaves. To give them strength Then nerve and thew, Length by length and two by two, With a snaky tread And not a sound Began to thread Each bone around! I hid my face, I shut my eyes For the little space The heart beats thrice, And then I looked Again and saw What is not brooked By natural law: Each skull a face, And trunk and limb Had the sweet grace Of flesh on them! VI But as I would praise The miracle A heavy haze About me fell. From the luminous mist God's voice said: "They with flesh are dressed, But they are dead, "And none can make Them live but I; Cease now to quake And prophesy. "To the four winds call, Thou son of man, That these slain may all Draw breath again!" I stood appalled At His presence hid, But I called, I called As I was bid. From hill and wood Did the four winds meet, And the slain all stood Upon their feet; An exceeding army, They drew their breath And stepped forth free From the ranks of death! VII Ezekiel, Behold the blood Of My sons that fall In the world's dark wood! Now prophesy To the troubled host Whose bones are dry, Whose hope is lost; In the battle's shock, In the ways they grope, I am their Rock, I am their Hope! Their blood I see, I hear their groans, Yea, and I am He That raised the bones!