The Great Wave

by Ron Slate

Lion of God Some remember me from those days, not by that name, given to me, but by the breach between name and boy. At ten I pronounced the unspeakable name of God, my teacher rose from his chair, dragged me by the scruff, then shook me in his teeth. Speaking the word to make a pleasing sound, I neglected to consider the significance, committing a grave offense. Thus I was transformed by terror, my classmates looking on, and in the space between name and child arose fear, respect, contempt, wonder, loss of faith, awe of the eternal. I took my seat and read on, wary of meaning but loving the lilt, relying now on rhythm so that time may never be interrupted again.