Observations placeholder

New Light for the Old Dark – Sam Willetts
From the desert

The Answerer, the young rabbi, high in Kabbala,
Humming and rocking, strumming his beard
The man of all moments answers obliquely
From the blue shades of olives.  Flies alight
Between his words.  His eyes will not blink
Under the lashes.  He keeps offering
His open palms, as if to say no trickery.  Mild
As the clonk of goat bells from the valley slopes
His voice can be heard far off
Assuring and explaining.  His skin shows
A greyish tinge of sickness and the memory
Of the desert stings in his eyes
Out there he saw tall storm columns teeter
Like a plate spinner’s poles as they came on,
Fixed his gaze on the way the heat
Was shouldering the air on the horizon
Stared into the vibrancy that could be
Water, could be anger, could be angels
Trembling into this world.  He became too still
For Death to see him, waited until
Thirst and exhaustion took him and danced him,
Pouring into his ears all his Father’s purposes