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.
