On this day of Pentecost

On this day of Pentecost - a poem

On this day of Pentecost,
they were divided in many places.

And suddenly there came from them
a sound like a mighty primal scream,
and it filled the cities where they
were living.

And divided tongues—flames of fire—
arose from them and settled
on their cities.

And they were all filled with spirits—
some of heaven and some of hell,
some of power and some of fear—
and they spoke in other tongues,
as each spirit enabled them.

Now there were dwelling
in the alabaster cities
(now dimmed by human tears),
diverse peoples who had come
from every nation under heaven.

When this sound occurred,
the crowds came together,
and they were bewildered,
because not one of them
could understand
the other,

for each one was speaking
their own language, and
there was none who could
decipher.

And they were amazed
and astonished, saying,
“Are not all these who roar
Americans?

“How is it that we cannot hear
the other?”

They were all astounded
and perplexed, each saying
to the other, “I know
what this means!”

But others sneered and said,
“They’re drunk on new wine.”

They were divided in many places,
on this day of Pentecost.