LIGHT

Starlight for my father at fifteen

Still awake at five in the morning

High in his attic, standing by the window.

A flickering dream for my mother,

Fourteen and just about to wake up

A mile or two away. It's a Saturday;

He will go to the synagogue and ask God

Some probing questions. She will go

To a movie and gather evidence

Of how reality can be constructed

From shadows and light and fear and love.

SUFFICIENT CAUSE

Not cat, not surgeon, I
Have not much thought I
Might be God, travelling incognito,
Even to Myself, through the world.
Still, if the Universe proves
Fond of a joke and I
Wake up as Lord of Creation, I
May incarnate for reasons
Other than those of tradition.
Having failed many tests,
Including some I didn’t know
I was taking, I would be loath
To test Mankind (which, by and large
Has done well by Me).
Nor would My first priority.
Be salvation (Not, mind you,
That I’d want to set Myself
Against saving you all; it just
Wouldn't be high on My to-do list.)
No; it would be from wondering
How sawdust smells when it’s fresh
And dancing in a ray of light
Or what it is to hold a child
Or to be a child and be held.

WHY I DON'T SLEEP

Since you were written in light

I’d have translated you

Into my native tongue:

Gestures, smoke, echoes;

But you were living with numbers

Then somehow married a bone

The coffee I drank long ago

So I could see you still

Forbids me ever to sleep.

DUST, LIGHT, MUSIC

Through the window a shaft of light;

The dust dances; music plays

And only I to watch the dust

And only I to hear the music.

What year was this? Long gone;

If the dust next day had chanced

Or willed to join with other things

And so be born a man that man

Would be finding now his first gray hairs

Should I recognize him as he passes

Curling himself against the cold

I would think “I have not forgotten;

You were dust then but you danced

In a slant of light.”