Isaac and Jacob (For My Mother)

 

"The last time I saw you,
You looked so much older",
I said that I loved you,
I wish I'd been bolder,
I gave you a weak smile,
You held my hand,
I felt like Jacob,
Bowed down in the sand, ...

Your hand was like Isaacs,
On top of my my head,
I stole the blessing,
At the foot of your bed,
I was the lucky one,
I caught your eye,
I said fairwell,
Without watching you die,

And you prayed for me,
And blessed my life,
And the desert is bleaker still,
Without his wife,

The last time I saw you,
Your eyes not yet faded,
Through jordans waters,
You had not yet waded,
Your silence oppressive,
Like a storm not yet broken,
But you held my hand and,
I'd barely spoken,

As Jacob I listened,
With undeserved merrit,
To Isaac my mother,
From whom I'd inherrit,

A penchant for sorrow,
And distance and art,
And the blackest of humor,
And a place I can start,

To piece together,
Just who I am,
Out of where I've come from,
And the frailty of man,

Oh Isaac my mother,
Its your Jacob here,
You shouldn't have blessed me,
That much is clear,

The blessing was the beginning,
Of the ending of living,
The grave unyeilding,
The sky unforgiving,

And I wasn't ready,
To inherrit your soul,
Knelt here in the sand,
A small part of the whole,

Take back your words,
Leave them unsaid
I'll gladly return,
To the foot of the bed,

And gaze on you breathing,
And take back the meal,
That I used for decieving,
That I used to conceal,

But now you're gone,
There's no room in the sky,
Agrophobic, the sand dunes,
Where I stand and cry,

All of us sand grains,
All of your children,
All of the sad stars,
All of us pilgrims,

We stand together,
And mourn your passing flight,
Untill Hades,
Or the kingdom of light,
Amen


M Joseph Burt (Somewhere between July 2005 and April 2010)