THE POEMS HERE ARE ABOUT OUR FAMILY

THE POEMS HERE ARE ABOUT OUR FAMILY
 
The poems here are about our family, the one whose borders are unknown
about our tribe, small, expanded
our tribe, which like sand, death does not govern
and which, after its death, shines like a star.
Here among us is Joseph stripped of his coat. Here are his brothers, too.
And the folded pit which was carried on Joseph’s back. And the yearning woman with whom he never slept.
The poems inscribed here are also written about me. Me, about whom no one knows from where I came
and no one knows to where I’ll go.
And about our God, who reveals himself and hides, in order to conceal that he still reigns.
And about the belly, round, which is all pleasantness
this belly, which the land itself looks into
to research its seasons
to know its secret.
And about our fear which lives in the yard as a loyal little dog joyful and barking,
if only we’d scratch behind its ear, it would lie down indulgent.
Also about the terrible pain that does not cease.
And about the gate which has no one to open it
about this body which covers itself with a sheet, sometimes out of grace, sometimes out of doom.

 

THE POEMS HERE ARE ABOUT OUR FAMILY