Thursday, May 15, 2008

Tkhine in Iyar

Hear me out in less time than it takes to boil water,
You who created the People with your wisdom
and commanded us not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge,

which is not why I came
to this coffee-spilled table,
near a parking lot filled with hybrid cars.

God loves the ones who speak out,
which is what I'm trying to do
talking with You while my boyfriend's
in Louisiana, and I hope you'll bless him

so he may journey back to me safely
without sitting on the tarmac for a half day
so that we might see each other
before we return to work,

and bless my step-daughter counting the days
for her below market rate housing unit,
my son who is beginning to understand
the past does not need to dictate who he is,
and my daughter whose strength shines from her eyes
as she drives between her college dorm and Santa Rita prison.

For so many years I felt like an oxe
pulling the cart of my family
along a thirsty road
making sure to avoid ruts,
and now You have breathed back
into my dry bones
so that I am a young girl sitting here
in a coffee shop near the airport
awaiting my love.