by Laura Del Col Brown
Don’t feel jealous of Moses, even though He was favoured by God. In those days God wouldn’t let go, And, unlike David’s God, he was still learning nuance. You didn’t dare weep as you gathered the ash of your nephews In their tunics (unburnt, just to drive the point home), Or when Pharaoh’s old general, who once let you win in a game Of handball by stooping his shoulders, had his first cry of fear Slammed back in his throat by the hurtling sea. The dittany offering passionate ooze to the elements, The sandgrouse soaking his down for his thirsty brood, Were God’s instruments only. Touch a rock on its own terms Just once, and you’d never hear the end.
Don’t feel sorry for Moses, even though He didn’t get to enter the Promised Land. Every land has lands beyond it, and a man Who’d gone twice up the holiest mountain could hardly be kept From climbing another. Whenever he’d died, or whoever Had told us about it, he’d have died looking in. God may have quit miracles. He’ll never stop wonder.