I Was Born In The Right Time, In Whole
Poem By Anna Akhmatova
Moses, I ask about your hands,
Things they could have held...
Rough, hardened from desert
Passages, sandstorms, acrid suns.
You could not touch your wife
With softness...did your words
Suffice...into the night,
Past the dawn?
You could not touch petals of a
Flower...did you touch its softness
With your eyes? Did you regret
Passing by its beauty?
You could not touch a baby's
Cheek, tickle laughter from its
Belly. Did the baby see, in your
Soul, softness you could not give?
Did you hear laughter when you
Left the tent?
But, you went to the mountaintop...
Were you joyous, relieved finally,
Knowing your hands could hold
Rough hands, rough stone,
For human kind?