Monday, May 2, 2011

Bin Laden

I would like to know what He
said to him when he showed up,
but I cannot hear because
there is a black curtain covered
with all the universe,
too heavy for me to pull back,
hanging over the face of God.

I imagine a tableau of tall and taller
mountains beyond mountains
beyond mountains.
A bright sun rising over snow on peaks.
A clear blue sky that
goes on forever.
A stream flowing
clear and fast,
cold and delicious.

On its banks is a small man,
newly alone, whispering
a dry prayer, weeping or perhaps not,
standing at the beginning
of a very long climb.

A warm breeze flowing around him,
alive with a riot of flowers
that he may never choose
to breathe in.