“Show me now your way, that I can know you” (Exodus 33:13)
For you, I will draw myself
on your face, whisper my name
straight into the whorls of your ear,
teach you the delicacy of each
created thing: crack open the seed,
set the squirrel’s beating heart
into the palm of your hand— So
wrap yourself in fringes, strap your faith
to your right hand, whisper the thirteen ways
I will always forgive you, slowly, out loud,
because no man can see me and live.
So, if you must see me,
there is the rock you can stand on: the stone
from which you were formed,
sand colored and flat. Balance
yourself there and I will move
over you like your mother’s hand
grazed your infant body, slope above
you like an umbrella in the naked sun.
I will score the rock into the socket of an eye
and place you gently there inside
and you will know me
as the unmistakable shadow of a dear friend
you recognize from behind.
Listen to this poem:
Photo Marble Shell [Explored] by Riccardo Cuppini used under Creative Commons License (BY-NC-ND-2.0)
