After a While - a poem for Noah and his Wife

After a while,
after a few days of
rolling and tipping and
tripping over everything
or nothing at all;
After a while,
you really couldn't hear the rain.

And after a while,
after endless days leached of color
with the air itself heavy and liquid,
Everything
and nothing at all felt dry,
After a while
you really couldn't hear the cries
Of the people we left behind.

God commanded it -
Leave them, He said,
Leave them to die,
While sweet water and steady
rains wash over the world
To cleanse my creation
And make it whole.

Oh, what glory,
What majesty!
God calls my husband righteous,
Mostly. For now.
He built this ship of cubits
and pitch,
and so we are saved,
sheltered by this ark
that trips and tips,
A clumsy dancer on the waves.
Leave, he said,
leave it all -
the pots and blankets and
friends that you knew.
I wonder if anything -
anyone survived this damnable
heavenly flood.

And after a while, after days
and days of roiling seas and
rolling waves,
you cannot hear the rain that God has sent,
and you cannot hear the cries
of all the people left behind,
and you cannot touch
the bow set against a
suddenly gentle blueness -
mere illusion, but beautiful
nonetheless.

And after a while, after all those days,
you wonder if you ever really heard
the voice of God at all.