
JACOB
THE CHALLENGER 
Isn't it already too late, Jacob?
Another day endless and dim,
the road spread everywhere.
You
know it too well now
- the pebbles, the gray,
the amphorae looming from the unshaped rocks.
You
swear not to believe anymore,
not to ever seek Him again.
Yet you still hunt for your Angel
to challenge you, to break you.
Your
call is mean from solitude now.
No one contends you, o Jacob
from the seven lands of the unseen god.
No one to confirm or deny your youth's obstinacy
whose insolence put an oath upon a whole people.
What
if your Challenger never comes?
What if you return home sound, but evil and silent?
Is
that only the lame and the broken by god can lead a people
to another piece of a promised land,
across another abyss of soundless condemnation,
which, look, already buries your seed?
.
. .
Are you also one of those
who can pray only broken,
and long only to be broken,
who seek the-One-who-Breaks
to feel just for an instant
d ivinity in their hips?