The Traveling Bones

Down there in Egypt we kept to the bones

Of Jacob and Joseph, the great patriarchs

We kept the dry bones on a string near the door

And on windy days they would clatter and rattle

Telling us who we have been.

Whenever we traveled, the bones traveled with us

In prison and palace, up tenement stairs

In flats and apartments, and all down the street

The traveling bones, the rattling bones

Were our memory and our reward.

When we took to the desert, we carried those bones

On sledges or and wagons, on camels and carts

Not resting or quiet, but clacking in time

Those elbows and ribs, they played out their rhythm

As we marched through sun and sand.

Just now they might feel when their exile is ended

And we come to their home, I cannot imagine

The traveling bones, the rattling bones

And we take their place in their unquiet slumber

As the rattling, clattering bones.