Another Poem

ISAAC BEFORE THE ALTAR
(Abraham 1:12-15; Genesis 22)

My father bends his head toward the dust
And begs his God there be some other way
To prove his faith and loyalty
     Than place his son upon a pyre.

He thinks how he’d been dragged upon a slab
To slake the thirsty gods of Elkenah—
How fear lay coiled round his beating heart
     Like Pharaoh’s hissing snakes beside some mouse

When priestly knives were pressed against his flesh.
He feels my gaze as he collects the tools—
His ropes, knives, his altarcloths and robes—
     Then he passes by the nursing ewes.

We gather branches for the searing flame,
This kindling for my sacrificial bed;
He bundles twigs to sweep away the doubt
    That God could claim such costly price as I.

We set forth to climb a rocky way,
Both knowing it will be my blood we’ll spill.
My shallow faith is not yet deep as his!—
    Yet he weeps to hear me plead, “Where is the lamb?”