Water as Life

Forgive me.
Are we in Pharaoh’s dream?
Is this a David Blaine illusion trick?
Another Egypt?

Always
Egypt does return.
That old, old story told, retold
in cruel regimes, darkly inking lines for profit.
Towers loom their loud illusions,
the signature rise and
fall.

The people
shore-lined now,
pushed to sorrow’s edge, undulate
on that old knife blade.
Again.

Incense
sifts the night.
Sage prayers. Remnant water watchers
cup their life, to hold it up in wait
for Miriam’s victory
song.

(A Pause for Miriam’s musing:)
What if the horse and rider didn’t fall into the sea?
What if the waters part instead to leave a path for souls to meet (not die)
or to escape the Pharaoh’s fantasies? What if the armies didn’t drown,
but kneeled instead, or bowed, seeking to be forgiven?

Blessed be the name. That’s all I know.

I cannot hope for death.

© 2016 – Denice Bezoplenko

Photo Credit – Pixabay
Poetry form – Free Verse