Like Dust and Heat

Walk with me, he said.
Walk with me in the quiet of the mountain
and we will find God.

How will we know when we find God?

God smells like rope and iron --
Sharp --
Like blood,
said my father.
And God sounds like
the absence of rain,
Like dust and heat
that ripples across
this narrow road.
God tastes like thunder,
and the bleating of a brass horn
Tangled in a thicket.

That's how we'll know God,
he said.

And so we walked,
my father and I,
on a path bordered by sunlit green
flecked with gold.
The dust rose to bathe our feet
in the dry air
that shimmered and rippled
Without a sound.

I miss the rains,
And the taste of thunder.

Walk with me,
my father said,
and we will find God
And perhaps, each other.
And he took my hand
As we walked up the mountain.

His hand felt like home to me,
Like heat
and light.
Like love.

And he laid me on the altar
We found there,
a holy sanctuary
that lay in cool shadow.
His rope belt cut into my skin,
And he anointed me with dust,
And I tasted fear like thunder.

And there was God,
Who looked at me with my father's eyes
And an angel's tears,
who smelled like iron and
sounded like absence and
felt like love.

Chayei Sarah

I followed you

Through vast deserts and over mountains

Into lush valleys

and across years

I followed you

Though you did not follow me,

Offering me instead to strangers

and angels

I followed you

Into the desert, empty and sere--

Sterile as my womb,

While you built altars

to your God.

And I laughed

And lied

And sent my Handmaid to your bed

To please you

And appease you.

And still I followed you.

I followed you,

Sacrificed my royalty for you,

Watched a Handmaid's child 

Claim a nation

And felt my womb quicken.

Even after 

I followed you 

And laughed at God

And lied--

I felt my womb quicken!

And so I followed you

Drank at your wells

and prayed at your altars

Built to please and appease 

your God.

And you walked through oceans of sand,

Knelt in fertile crescents

Rich and lush as life itself,

Traversed mountains

At the whim of your God.

At the command of God

And on the last mountain

I did not follow.

I watched you walk away,

Walk up that mountain

With our son at your side.

Our son--

Whose life had quickened my womb;

Whose heart had beat in tandem with mine;

Whose hand I held and body I cradled,

Whose fears I eased

And tears I dried--

I did not follow you

While you sacrificed our son

Until the angel stayed your hand.

I will not follow 

Build a nation and altars to God.

I have drunk at your wells,

And laughed, 

And lied;

And watched you walk away,

Watched my son follow you

Up that mountain

Knife in his hand,

The sun silver against that sharpened blade.

He followed,

Your sacrifice 

My son.

And so I will not follow 

I will remain.

Keep your altars

and your God 

I am your sacrifice

And I --

I will not follow.