Samson
It is breathing time again—time to rest and remember God—
To know he assigns the power he gives to purpose—
And time to remember myself—chosen before I even was—
Breathing time breaks—noises—voices—“He hides within the cave”—
My language—my accent—friends—and yet my spirit rises—
I walk to a greeting—many greetings—harsh and angry—
They surrender me to save their families—so they think—
A flurry of thought—do I hate them?—wish to stir their enemies?—
No—I calm myself—love abides—poetry I write within my actions—
The enemy would kill to pay a debt—I make them feel it returned—
The sacred marriage bond they break—I burn their sacred fields—
I do to them as they to me—the still and quiet voice of God—
A donkey’s jawbone comes to my aid—had it once spoken to Balaam?
No, it is fresh.
To whom does it speak?
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