Wonder Why

Wonder why

the Prophet always descends

from a mountain peak,

brandishing stone tablets of Law.

Wonder why

the Prophet can't meander

out of the valley like a stream,

holding ripened berries in her hand.

Wonder why the Prophet

doesn’t say, “Thou shalt”

instead of “Thou shalt not.”

Wonder why we carve

our names on pillars, steeples,

sky-scrapers, states,

and why we can’t forget them

in the hum of returning bees,

the undulating curve

of wine-stained hills at dawn,

at least a little while.

Wonder why

nations don't gather

in a circle called Earth,

blending the roll of their hips

in a harvest dance, melting

into one rainbow serpent.

Wonder why we need

pyramids and politicians.

Wonder why we get so mad

we must defeat each other,

even ourselves,

when the berries taste so sweet

just as they are,

and better when we share them

crushed, fermented in one cup,

as lovers share their

secret selves

after the wedding.

Stock photo, Mt. Sinai