Moses also Carried His Cross

In a voice quiet and gentle, God calls,
“Moses, Musa, where are you?”

Here, I am, O Lord, wandering in the wilderness,
Searching for water in the sand
And seeking solace among uprooted acacia trees.

The sun gathers its last rays
From mountain tops and valleys
And turn into a cluster of oranges ripened by
Soft autumn heat and sweetened water.

Lord, out of slavery I have brought them this far,
To this thirsty country of
No man’s inheritance.
This fractured land and of deep furrows,
A heartbreak can set it on fire.

I scratch the desert soil
And see the future
Slipping through my fingers.
The silence!
The silence asks me without asking,
“What have you done with us, Moses?”

From the mountaintop
The valley looks tranquil and grotesquely beautiful.
Funny, how distance masks the reality!
Funny, from a distance, how easy it is
To conjure up an illusion of happiness,
Even from the misery of sand and
Sun-dried rocks!

In the distance when we hear a thrush or a nightingale sing,
We believe it is the desert wind playing tricks with our mind.
In the distance if we see a palm tree, we think it is a mirage.
When will you lead us out of our altered reality?
Lord, my people are about to stone me.

Lighten up, Musa. I desire to make you glad
And prosper the work of your hands.

Come, people are thirsty and impatient,
Thirst is crawling up their throats,
And their parched tongues are turning into vipers.
Come, let us quench their thirst
By turning stones
Into icebergs in the desert.
Strike, strike with your staff,
These rocks of Horeb and let them
Melt like snowflake in the sun.
And let my people to their heart’s content drink.

O Lord!
I have with my own eyes seen
When you made water divide the day and night
And the sea, like melon in Egyptian summer,
Fell apart as two slices of moon.
Lord, you are our refuge.
Without you,
We are dust returning to being mere dust.