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Nephilim

by Jawn Van Jacobs

If my father is an angel
then I am Nephilim –
standing skyscrapers higher
than all other of God’s children –
I can stomp out men like grasshoppers –
pluck ammunition like splinters –
survival is more a symptom when
you’ve never had a protector.

Are these my father’s traits
inherited through the same fate?
He, too, had a father absent
who made him and then sent him
down to Earth so he can manage
two sons, a daughter and marriage
still his eyes always sought heaven –
to the man who casted him.

Was the offer of Eternity so enticing?
better than fatherhood or witnessing
my life unfolding?
Did he fear the same hereditary hersey
would betray my mind?
I’m now the one with the father
who chose Paradise over his own line.

I watched him lift over me with
wings unready, forged of Fentanyl feathers
and diadem stoned with Oxycontin.
Now all anyone can see me as is
a 420 foot being, failing
to reach him in the clouds –
I often thought about joining him,
but fear the same collateral damage
would happen if I fell.

Is that the angel in me –
in it for the greater good?
Or is it the human in me –
told to abide God’s will.


About the Author:

Jawn Van Jacobs is a spitfire South Jersey poet who holds back nothing in the name of poetry. His work delves into the raw and untamed narratives of outlaws, illuminating the lives and perspectives of those living on the outskirts of society.

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