John 9

I gathered up the world from shadows on a cave wall.

Fire casts for me a mother, full of milk and worship,
and a father who smelled like the fields.

He laughed deep thunder,
“See here! See here!
See the favor of God!
A son!”

Father loved me until I was found blind,
then the roar diminished to a whisper,

“God has brought our darkness into the light.
This is the child of our comeuppance.”

Passing time without sight you have room to listen.
I learned every inflection of shame.

Mother walked to town collecting the faults of young girls,
Pretty Ahuva who walked tossing her head,
Hadar who looked straight into the eyes of grown men.
Their wrongs were gathered and sifted in a harvest of deflection.
Father worked hard as three men and grew silent.

It was Sabbath when earth was mixed
with the water of divinity.
I washed and came to know the day fire.
Not knowing to look away
I stared full into the sun
thinking pain was sight.

The first time I saw the face of my mother
I did not recognize the look of hope
for all was new to me.
So I shut my eyes and heard
the sound of darkness breaking.

The second time I saw the face of my father
I was taught the shape of denial.
“He is of age. Ask him.”

Then came the Healer.
He mixed the heaven into the earth.
He was like summer rain,
and he laughed like a storm passing.

“See here! See here!
See the favor of God!
A son!”

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Painting: "The Blind Man" by Albert Bloch (1948)