Jacob Dreamed of Ladders

It is not the going up

that interests me,

not the view from Heaven

nor the view from Tuesday—

today is struggle enough.

And I am downright fearful

of going down,

with its trickster promise of return

and illusion of solid ground.

Down is done backwards, after all,

the last step always more question

than answer.

In truth I am terrified of ladders,

of their rickety rattling restless motion,

of the balance they require,

the perfection.

Easier—

infinitely easier—

to wrestle with myself

on the ground.

For Esau

Thief!

Liar and thief!

Despite all you stole,

I loved you still.

I would have given anything

if you’d asked.

Instead your shadow

smothered my birthright,

my heat.

Thief!

You stole the light of heaven,

the love of our mother,

even our father’s faulty eyes.

You took it all and left me—

what does one call a shadow

of a shadow?

Of betrayal you made a nation

numberless as the sand and stars.

Because you knew God,

you were blessed and cursed

and beloved.

You knew God,

but I learned forgiveness.

And so I bless you and curse you

and love you more still.