Perhaps a Mild One

 

Perhaps a Mild One

(“The Lord is my strength and my power; he has become my salvation. This is my God, whom I will praise, the God of my ancestors, whom I will acclaim.” Exodus15:2)

What I want to know is
why the waters do not always part.
This is not a complaint, or perhaps just
a mild one,
simply a question that fills my ache every time
someone else’s sea stands dry, and they pass by
with a satisfied look in their eyes.

I would sing too, and so would you,
if it happened to us. We might stay in
the riverbed
all afternoon building sand-castles
or cairns to mark the day.

You might even say I am jealous for the stories
told in ten seconds or less
about the mess that now looks like
a wedding cake on display. And yes,
my messes look more like pudding or
dumplings,
I admit.

Though it may not be dramatic,
though the overture is painfully short,
though the curtains open on a scene so ordinary
it could be main street,
or ranch style,
or farm house,
or downtown diner,
or just some children wading in the river
with the dogs biting the water and
turning somersaults in the sand;

Though it may not be a masterpiece
of biblical proportions
or an anthem of alleluias,
the story I’ve learned has enough space
for my questions
and enough wonder to keep me
peeking at tomorrow as it comes over the ridge.