John 9

We gather up the world
from shadows on a cave wall.

Fire casts for us a mother, soft,
full of young milk and worship;
and a father who smells of the field,
wild heather, and oxen.
He laughs deep thunder,
“See here!
See here!

See the favor of God!
A son!”

My father loved me
until I was found blind.
Then the roar diminished
to a whisper,

“God has brought our darkness
into the light.
This is the child
of our comeuppance.”

Passing time without sight
you have room to listen.
I learned every shade
of the sound of shame.

Mother walked to town
gleaning the faults of young girls,
Pretty Ahuva who walked tossing her head,
Hadar who looked straight into the eyes of grown men.
Mother gathered and sifted her harvest of deflection.
Father labored hard as three men
and grew silent.

It was Sabbath,
when the earth was mixed
with the water of divinity.
I washed and came to know the day fire.
Not knowing to look away
I stared full into the sun
thinking pain alone was sight.

The first time I saw the face of my mother
I did not recognize the look of hope
for all was new to me.
So I shut my eyes and heard
the sound of darkness breaking.

The second time I saw the face of my father
I was taught denial.
“He is of age. Ask him.”

I looked at my father
and saw silence
making love to the night.

Then came the Healer,
pushing through the crowd.
He mixed the blood of divinity
into the earth.
He smelled of wild heather,
cedar, and summer rain,
and he laughed like deep thunder,

“See here!
See here!
See the favor of God!
A son!”

-John 9-