Stacks of burlap in the basement,
seven bags high:
soybean, rice, corn seed;
cases of canned peaches, peas,
carrots and green beans,
enough to feed Gideon’s army.
Young Gideon, we learned in Sunday school,
gathered a ragtag crew of Israelites
on God’s instruction
to slay the mighty Midianite army.
Mother grimaces:
“Talk to your father.”
At supper, we eat boiled soybeans
with Ezekiel bread and butter.
"Soybeans are the meat of the field,"
our old man says.
"A righteous antioxidant,
packed with protein, vitamins and minerals."
We are told that dried soybeans,
stored properly,
will retain their nutritional value
long enough to survive an apocalypse.
I am twelve years old in ’82.
The end of the world sounds like an Atari game
where the protagonist expires
in a puff of smoke
only to discover himself reborn
into an unspoiled universe.
In father’s game,
global war engulfs planet Earth,
followed by a return
of the angry Old Testament god
hurling fire and brimstone
down upon an ungrateful creation.
“Do not fear,” the old man says.
“God’s chosen will be spared his wrath
and rewarded with heavenly riches.”
Gideon was also chosen,
and for his subservience rewarded
as a hero of faith:
seventy sons were bestowed upon him
from the many women he took as wives.
Even Gideon petitioned divine intervention
before signing on to God's command.
Three miracles he required
to march into battle.
I required only one:
Dear Heavenly Father, hear my prayer.
Your holy scripture declares
that to those who ask it shall be given.
I ask that you demonstrate
the truth of your power
by turning these mushy soybeans
into a Quarter Pounder with Cheese.
~ Thomas
**First published in Hole In The Head Review
