And he looked up & said,
I see men as trees, walking.
Blind from birth, his first imperfect sight
a vision out of the Hebrew Bible:
the high places with their half-human groves,
idolized Asherim perennially sprouting
from their stumps—
or so the modern scholar sees it,
his ink-stained fingers illiterate
in the Braille of an oak tree’s bark,
his embrace never tested by a cedar’s girth,
his nostrils never burned by terebinth.
But even through the fog of such erudition
no one could miss at least an echo
of the shock:
that these soft bodies with their brittle voices
seemed for a moment as full of power
as a forest on the move.