The Slow Moon page image


By Elizabeth Cox
Tiferet Journal, 2003

If the horizon in the west bruised by the coming night could grow legs
and walk toward the world, if it could walk toward the people and houses of our life,
Or if the line of a far place could approach us with beautiful feet, would we listen?

If the top of a tall pine, loaded with green spring cones, bent down
to put the cone beside our ear, would we believe what was whispered?
The cone having a perspective of height.

If a stranger comes to the door, do we get a gun?

If someone loves us, do we feel obligated?

Where does joy go, when we don't feel joyful? Where does the orange tongue of anger split and linger?

If the birds on their tiny legs in the dust choose not to fly, do we judge them?

Why do we turn sons into soldiers? Why do we put together millions
of young men, troops taught to startle and murder?

If we are not violent, are we then good? Do we pretend to be good, while waiting for violence to come back in again?

Why do we make business and everyday work a war? Why do we teach the young that winning is everything?

Who is in charge of careful attentiveness?

If we are backed against the wall, do we tell the truth at that time?

If the brook water pulls itself deliberately over the rocks and flows to the place of river or sea, do we follow or just watch?

If we know the presence of sunlight even when the ground and sky are gray, then why do we despair?