The Promised Land: A Saturday Poem

The Promised Land

I did not ask for this. Nor did I question
my role as ladder-holder. But I now fear
my eternal destiny.
If Motive be judge, I am safe, and
innocent as yesterday's sparrow, hatched.
But let Desire hold the gavel.
This wizened vulture did not circle twice
before descending in his spiral,
toward that which was above.

For as you climbed the steps, so did I.
And my gaze fell upon that which should
not be seen unless shown.
The land of milk, oh yes, and honey.
My trembling hands upon the rails shook.
And my eyes, longing to weep,
seemed [wickedly] unable to do so.

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009