Dream at Bethel—Mischa Willett

"I relax; put a smooth rock under my head, start to dream the dreams of my life..."

Stack Takeover: Mischa Willett. We’ll be reading poetry from Mischa every week, including four poems published for the first time on this Substack. For an introduction to Mischa, read Ben Palpant’s interview with him here.

For more articles, videos, books, and resources about faith and art, visit RabbitRoom.com

---

Dream at Bethel

by Mischa Willett

Quiet now, but for camels’ tongues,
lopping fat and sticky in the young
 
desert night, big wind in the black backdrop
of sky, crickets and their ancient legs, log-pops
 
from my small fire. Cool on my feet,
this breeze after two days walking since the trees
 
of my village waved their shaggy good-byes. My wool socks
stuffed in boots, I relax; put a smooth rock
 
under my head, start to dream the dreams of my life:
I can fly like hawks, have green-eyed wives
 
from the east, am a sailor with a swift ship,
fish, kingdoms under me, then this:
 
a ladder leaning into clouds that reaches high as noon,
quick as raindrops, up and down, angels, bright as moon.
 
Then a whisper comes sliding too, down the ricket of the bars,
promising peace and plenty, descendants like the stars.
 
The fire is dim as voices when the drop                                       
of my leg wakes me. Blinking, I prop
 
on an elbow and look around for stairs, an unnatural 
hint of spirits, but see only my bearded camels, 
 
some lights on a hill from town, my boots, provisions.
I think better of my strange vision.
 
At breakfast I splash oil on my pillow rock--
it seems holy still-- and get ready to walk, pack
 
everything, give the camels some straw,
call the place Church, to remember what I saw.

---

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

---