07-09-2016, 11:12 PM
The Bush
Shoot the bow
and chase after
the arrow up
the hill and down
the mountain where
your flower, Sephorah, stands --
I heard her speak. I listened to her conspire.
Remember, I can hear everything,
even what dreams may flower in the night.
She said she would not cut the skin,
she would not appear before you red --
no, she was too afraid of bloodshed.
I will show her bloodshed.
But I do not condemn your choice. You walk
the right path, your feet
being already red.
This is your destiny, Moses:
out of Egypt
will you carry
your mother's bones,
your father's bones,
then bury them
in a hundred-silver tomb at Shechem,
right next to where the lion
should become a home for honey.
Now don't weep. You won't
taste any of it anyway. For you,
the waters of lake Marah
or perhaps the snows atop Mount Nabau
shall be sweet enough.
Shoot the bow
and chase after
the arrow up
the hill and down
the mountain where
your flower, Sephorah, stands --
I heard her speak. I listened to her conspire.
Remember, I can hear everything,
even what dreams may flower in the night.
She said she would not cut the skin,
she would not appear before you red --
no, she was too afraid of bloodshed.
I will show her bloodshed.
But I do not condemn your choice. You walk
the right path, your feet
being already red.
This is your destiny, Moses:
out of Egypt
will you carry
your mother's bones,
your father's bones,
then bury them
in a hundred-silver tomb at Shechem,
right next to where the lion
should become a home for honey.
Now don't weep. You won't
taste any of it anyway. For you,
the waters of lake Marah
or perhaps the snows atop Mount Nabau
shall be sweet enough.