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Lamentation of Moses
I stand on the mountain path
watching the last of the people
file past me, their eyes full of hope,
their mouths full of laughter,
tambourines ringing their jubilee,
taking with them the last of my disparity.
The wind bellows with fierce disregard for my old bones
and I remove the veil from my head,
no longer needed to protect the eyes of innocents.
Why me? I had asked so many times,
words fumbling and stuttering out of my mouth
with its own ineptness and hypocrisy.
I turn my back on the army of ants
streaming down the mountain path
and face the rocky plateau we had just come
hours before. Without a staff to lean on,
the gout aches within my ankles and toes
and I wonder how I will live the remainder of my life.
The smell of flowering jasmine fills my nostrils,
just as it always does before the light appears.
As I lean against a sharp crag, I pull off my sandals obediently,
standing barefoot on holy ground, but I cry out in self-pity.
Why can’t I go with them? Why must You set yourself on punishing me?
And when He answers me, I smile and take His hand,
tasting the sweetness of honey overflowing from the promised land.
(2011)
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