The far side of the sky is burning
red & an orange evening tunnels
into our tender eyes.
Heaven light cut the ribbon
of our countries.
I now understand how moths feel
around open flames.
I now understand how immigrants
feel at borders.
The silent rays that ripple us when
our foundling feet find new soil
even if it burns – even if it cackles
I wear the belief of my faith &
I thread myself into prosperity
Let this black ram stomp the river
& become white
Let this marshy land become the river
that flows for others
Let our eyes see Jerusalem everywhere
even if we enter with a voice of Jacob
& a hand of Esau
We all need salvation & soil
to call ours.