Sing the Silvery Song

Sing the Silvery Song

(“And now behold, we are in your hands; do to us as it seems good and right in your sight to do.” Joshua 9:25)

Oh no, not today. Not while we are doubling down on
the trouble we have avoided so far. You were far stronger than
we could imagine and bowed ourselves before you with our
hands quivering in the sun. There was a day

When we were all simply people on the sand. But you took your name,
we took our land,
and it all became the worst capture the flag game ever seen.

Your ancestors and ours roamed this dirt in different directions.
Some followed the river, some stayed close to the oasis of trees.
Some built huts while some built tall houses with gardens on the roof.
We all shared the plums and figs and dates and planted new fruit
trees when we wanted. We raised our sheep and goats and a few pigs.
We ate at tables spread for neighbors with enough for children and
elders.

Oh no, not today. Not another gridiron gladiator storming the gates.
Not another flock of locusts setting the air on fire. We’ve hidden
for far too long and now
ask for courtesy, a little sympathy, a new translation for an old
alteration we made up on the spot. Speak the old languages,
sing the silvery song, beat the drum slowly and wake us up with
pipes from the hills.

Let us gather now like we know it’s almost over,
let us share the table set among the sweet clover.
Let us listen for the bell that rings out freedom,
let us grasp hands, and shake them like we just succeeded
and will look for the ways the sunlight plays so late
in a summer evening.

Somewhere in the Distance

 Somewhere in the Distance

(“Therefore say, ‘Behold, I give to him my covenant of peace.’” Numbers 25:12)

The more I know, the more I do not understand;
the more the certainties, the more the canyons of smoke.
And though the air is filled with ash
and the oceans with reflections of the sun
my world is motionless, save for the unspoken
poetry that lies at my feet.
One day silence is peace,
the next day it is centripetal force
and the quiet bears the weight of the universe.

The more I look, the more I think the world has been
fixed with chewing gum. The more flavors, the better,
I think,
but the chilly air sneaks in through the corners,
the rabbits sneak in through the breaks in the fences.
Some days are paradise,
some days lead to hell,
some days run in circles,
some days lead nowhere at all.

I would stall if I could,
put off the daily pain for another day.
I would procrastinate these whirligig stories
that augur more deeply by their telling. I would
embrace the silence if
the silence was not all I knew.

But somewhere in the distant there are eyes I have never seen;
their arrival is unknown, but days may turn into hope
and dreams into visits from those I wish were closer
and had not departed so soon…
…somewhere in the distance.