Digging Up

Sarah and Abraham built altars 
and dug wells

One jutting bluntly to heaven, 
Pushing a prayer up, pulling something down 
One below, sinewing down to coolness, 
Pushing down a vessel, pulling something up

As she lay at night in her cooling tent 
did barren Sarah dream of digging, hand over hand 
through sand that falls in on itself in a silent stream 
Until she could awaken and grasp Abraham’s hand in sleep?

And did Abraham shudder with premonition 
when he judged just how much body weight 
his newest potent pile of rock could accommodate, 
A terror shaken off only as Sarah brings him a ladle of water?

I suppose it’s harder, and takes far longer 
to dig a well than to build an altar 
But then again, you have to grow the sacrifice, 
feed it and water it from the well for a very long time

So maybe it’s about the same, 
Deep or high 
And maybe in the covenant drudgery of digging 
Sarah and Abraham unearthed a few stones for the holy table built elsewhere.

And maybe they found that 
When properly wedged together 
Still dark and wet and new to the sun 
They don’t even try to wriggle free

But stay, poised forever, 
faces to God