Today I heard the walls of Jericho
fall
and don’t get me wrong,
the voice which shook them was
one of power
but the crash of the stones was
whispered
a sob, faint and precise
like a kitten kneading plastic wrap
or a newspaper
carried by gentle winds past your
ear,
just beyond the edges of your
vision
They fell with all the quiet intensity
borne by a tear rolling
down the cheek of
a face lit by the sun-dance smile
that only the splinters of a broken
heart can fuel
with all the silent agony of a
tortured artist, tired of dying
beautifully
with the space between
heartbeats, and the will to stop
counting them
with the careful clumsiness of a
drunk 16 year old trying
to sneak back through their
bedroom window
and the flutter of a crumpled
understanding,
bouncing off the rim of a
wastepaper basket
They met the earth with all the
excited tenderness of
lovers on the verge of keeping
promises
and there they settled,
finally, into
dust
and we were home.
