I Laugh

I would not scream
Child of promise that daunted me
With instant charm and beauty
Red-faced, wide-eyed and whole
You fought your way through me
And laughed with God’s voice.

I clamped my jaw and clutched
I would be a squaw
I would take it like a woman
Maybe climb a mountain after
Sling you on my back
And gather bitter herbs.

Then God’s laughter flew
Into the close room
Forced a cry from my lips.
No holding back
No keeping you from
Your right to be born
No keeping me from
My right to keep you.

All laughter is God’s laughter
So you have shown me
The gift I did not deserve
That could not be divided
By the will of any Solomon.

I screamed
And now I laugh.

The Scent of Diesel

It is a sunny day in Jerusalem
And all the bad men sleep
While visions of sugar-bombs
Dance in their heads
Busses zigzag clumsily
Among the dwarf cars
Mercedes for the taxis
Chevettes for the cops
Ancient minivans to transport
Anachronistic beggars sporting
Incredibly realistic gory parts
(Leprosy is so yesterday)
Quick, duck the tide of hawkers
Selling splinters of the True Cross
And cheap metal jewelry
No self-respecting Bedouin
Would claim as craft
Scent of fuel and bread and spice
And hot bodies sand-scoured
Common to see soldiers in green
Long hennaed hair whipping
Round their weapon stocks
In the dry holy wind
That scrapes along
The Temple Mount.

The Man I Never Chose

When it comes to the man I never chose
I know an old shard of fear
And feel again the rudder steer
Inexorably where I will not go.
Perhaps I knew it then
Before he thought to hold my heart
And when patience was his love for me
Or anyone else they condemned.

We waited together for the gun
I, with trembling mouth
Seeking some pity in the line
Of gleaming barrels, glinting sun.
Instead, I saw my life in spades
And wept for him, for me
For the girl who could not shine
For the boy who was at once
Gift and millstone, anchor and shade.

For to love me was to see the mission done
And such a task to stand upright
Waiting for the cruelly grinding missile
To char soft dreams with biting light.
The sharp report, the leaden whistle
One live bolt of spinning fury
Amid a sea of nineteen blanks
One shot for two as judge and jury.

Patience was his love for me.
To love me was to see the mission done.
To wait in line, together, for the gun
Until one of us should break and run.

And now the man I never chose
Wakes from sleep and finds
Another to lavish with his best.
One who would not be consigned
To meekly bow to a pious host
That will savage one to save the rest.
He fights for dreams he cherished most
And no longer drones of patience and guns.
He stands, he sings,
He drips joy like honey
Puts away the childish things
That bound him with sullen poetry
For here is a choice for which he is fierce.
Here is where the bullet touched
But could not pierce.