I’ve been chosen
can you believe it?
not the strongest,
not the sharpest
and certainly not
But I’m the one who has been chosen
seems like a dream
but maybe not a pleasant one
more like the stuff of nightmares
And it’s down to those soft, melting, brown eyes
they land me in it every time
People just look – even prophets
and decide – there’s a boy with soul
But this time, those eyes might be my downfall
How am I going to fulfil God’s calling
for me to be king?
There’s a perfectly good king already
Maybe a tyrant
Maybe a bit unhinged
But that’s the way of kings
And this crazy prophet thinks I’ll be next?
I don’t think so.
I’m off to lie low
and hope that, in time
they’ll forget all about
the prophet’s visit today
with his talk of God’s will
I’ll head back to my sheep
they’ll carry on without me.
This is a reflection, published in Spill the Beans, on the anointing of David by the prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 16:1-13)