On Abraham
I picture the glistening blade,
shining in the sun, a blinding reminder
of how that which is given
is never really ours
I wonder how he slept the night before,
hours passing slow, but much too quickly,
announcing a mourning
that was yet to come,
I imagine the trepidation
brewing heavy in the pit of his stomach,
leaving him unsettled by that which
his faith had settled,
did he stare up at the moon
contemplating what must be done?
cursing those lazy days,
the ones previously accumulated
when he didn’t give quite enough thanks
didn’t take enough time out
to enjoy their little moments,
I imagine him
grasping young Isaac in his arms,
tears running freely
as he understood sacrifice
I picture the glistening blade
shining in the sun, a reminder
that eventually
we must cut ties
and I wonder
would my heart be so willing?
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