Promise to Abraham

Abraham, it is time to leave

your lonely tent.

Find a vacant spot in the belly of your heart

and learn to fear the Lord.

Stop seeking the wind that blows

this way and that; come out from behind that fig tree

and walk straight.

Do not hide your thoughts from me

or turn your hand to smooth things.

Abraham, you are a dry land without

green shoots. But I am making you a gift

of wild grasses and flowers,

of flowing rivers and fertile soil.

It will be for you an everlasting possession,

the very ground of your being.

And Sarah! My beloved princess,

do not laugh when I say that what is now empty

shall become full.

Listen, both of you! No longer will your days

feel like a wheel that refuses to move

or a stone that won’t budge.

Have faith in the one who ploughs the fields of heaven,

whose fingers turn the earth

and whose breath shapes the clouds.

There is nothing I can’t do.

Come, Abraham, let my hand raise you up; let us pitch a tent amidst the stars

and count the brightest ones.

Maybe then you will comprehend

the immensity of my word,

the scope of my promise.