by Bobby Aldridge
(choka)
Ants building sand hills
Making bricks without straw
Follow well used paths
From the cattle in Goshen
To the veil in Sinai
Destroying Angel
Leave my child in my arms
Lead balls through barn boards
Can the mill be safe refuge,
Our lamb’s blood on the woodwork?
Our exodus lit
Crossing the frozen river
As the temple burns
Our homes buried in the land
So many temples leveled
Frozen or parted
We cross only to wander
And gather manna
Leaving Prairie Saints
And fair-weather friends behind
Taking counsel here
In the veiled mountain tops
Holy of Holies
A basket in bulrushes
A Conestoga wagon
A generation
Has passed in the wilderness
Jordan’s river parts
Locusts sleep beneath the earth
Shed their shells and spread their wings
Carry twelve round stones
Stack them here upon the shore
En memoriam
Fallen brethren and tables
From amid our affliction
Home is the sailor
Home from the sea … the hunter
Left along the way
See the honey bee building
A hive in a hollow tree
