horae

horae*

it was not the Seasons he worshipped—

and no prayers for Justice or Law or Peace—

although he toyed with the lure of still water

but it may have been the changing of seasons—

that another season was coming—springing

forth as if from his thoughts or his head

things blossoming to be plucked

things becoming again to be consumed

because we trust in that thing coming next—

he pretended to have the Faith of a farmer

but walked with the doubt of a desert dweller—           

nomad among migrant workers pausing to look

as he cut through the billowing fields

their faces the color of a sandstorm—

their hands and knees planted in the soil

and this was all a dream—or a lie—

the truth remained buried in him

not yet come to fruit—nothing to harvest—

the seed of him unknown to their Judgment

hiding beneath the surface—denied the Sunlight—

shaken by the rumble of arid Thunder and Lightning

* -----. (2008, September). horae. English Journal, 98(1), 15.