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We've wandered almost twenty years

and blood wells up under our feet.

God's people they say, promised land,

milk, honey, light on a hill,

salt of the earth and in the earth

and now nothing will grow.

Manna rains down on our backs, shoulders.

At night, God's flame burns through our eyelids,

brighter than Egypt's sun.

How much longer, oh Lord? we cry

and he answers, Until you have learned to stop asking.

If you do not sleep for forty years,

perhaps it will be seared on your eyes:

the terrible price of this freedom.

cgroom: Idea: emphasize the dryness of the land as a counterpoint to the blood oozing and the manna raining cgroom: I'm not sure about the ending. You talk about (a) the image searing, (2) god's answer "stop asking", (3) and return to the searing image. It works as is, but may be more potent if the searing image were expressed without break. heather: Thanks for the ideas Chuck -- the "now" is in that line is simply to fill a syllable but I'll look for a word that does more than just place-hold. The idea I was going for was "What if God is angry about what he has to do to Egypt to free the Isrealites?" But essentially intending to comment on the hubris of people who think they are God's chosen. I've been reading a lot of Puritan sermons, you see. So why I wrote a sonnet about Puritans set in Egypt is actually beyond me. I guess I'll attribute it to end of semester stress... Add comment