Apology

I saw the face of god behind a veil

in the eyes of the rabbi

who first writ the words.

I saw the face of god in all men's fears

when their hope is all gone

and

their dreams are still born

and

I took a blanket from a freezing child

and

wept untamed tears for the homeless child

until the sun like a blister broke in the east

like an overripe orange that's never been picked

and

I sat in the sand

by a fisherman's net

with the child in my arms

as payment for the debt

and

I bled for the child

full of unborn desire

with an oar in his hand

and

a splinter in his palm.

Until the sun set silent

on a wave in the ocean

and

I knew the apology

had already been accepted.