I Before E?

We say, “eye before eee! Except after see”,
Meaning, “ ‘eee!’ Before eye – at which point you die”;
The prophet, prophetic and perceiver gift,
Are often confused causing many a rift.

Consider perceivers – they’re found everywhere –
“Jay Leno” and “Far Side” – their wit lays us bare;
I’ve seen them in action – their hedges trimmed straight,
And trucks packed up tightly at seed-loading-gate.

Though some are prophetic, not all by a stretch;
A prophet’s perceptive, which gets him in heck,
Or her, for that function’s not bounded by sex
(Or gender – if proper), their big mouth life wrecks.

Like, “How many light bulbs in life does it take
To shift one’s perspective, a feminist make?”
“Just one – that’s not funny” I warn you with glee,
It’s that sort of insight which that gifting sees.

Then there are prophetic types – more off than on;
One woman spoke to me before she had gone –
“I see in your present your future laid out,
A bridge here in Brandon – to me there’s no doubt”.

Of course, there are others whose gifting is that;
The Spirit shines through them like ra-ta-ta-tat-tat
Which sounds from machine guns, as their mouths shoot off,
But under control they accomplish a lot.

And then there’s the Prophet, a gift to us all,
Who paints the big picture, and stands very tall;
Their insights, and visions, and the views of the end
Are awesome, defining, and roadways they bend.

When they have revealed to their people below,
The things which they see, so in God we can know
Our way, our direction, His insights, alarms,
Then we can move forward without endless harm.

The Bible is full of such Prophets – we see
Their antics, perceptions, and peoples they free;
False prophets abundant are not of that type –
A delicate balance – discerned when they’re right.

Now some are “Advisors”, “Court Jesters”, and such;
Some work in the background not pushing their luck;
For Prophets get stoned for their troubles (their pay),
Like Socrates, Jesus, and those of our day.

So we must be careful which meaning of word,
A person’s conveying so truth can be heard;
But there is confusion in all types we see –
That bit about I” after “E” and the “C”.

My typewriter finger showed “I” as my role –
As if bitter feeling were part of my goal;
I doubt it – my mom said “Two people throw mud –
From outside, or inside, at walls with their love –

From outside the bitter ones smash what can be;
From inside they change “i” to “e” once they see;
So “i’s” before “e” ’cept when essence is seen,
Then order’s reversed – mud now strengthens the beams.

I’ve sometimes been bitter when better’s been seen,
And folks seem to wish it was elsewhere I’d been;
It’s partly my culture – I’m from Echoland,
But thought I was mainstream – now I understand.

If one’s from a culture, the etiquette-set
Allows for critiquing what needs fixing yet;
Outsiders don’t get to say, “Let’s fix this mess”
(Like whites on reserves) – it’s not theirs to address.

I’ve been from the outside, but thought I was in;
Upon reservation, was warned, “Don’t begin
To think you are from their First Nation – you’re not;
You’re just an outsider, with role you’ve been taught”.

But when I came south I thought I had come home,
So I would say, “Let’s clean this mess – it’s our own”;
But I was a TCK – from the outside,
So rankled the others who shot up my hide.

One round of that fury and I hit the road,
To find what was missing – what I’d not been told;
I hunched it was central to others and me –
It was – now I’m better not bitter – I see.

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