Mountains
Gerizim and Ebal
For what ends
were we brought into this land?
Mountains, we look to you
overseers of our holiness
guardians of the pact that made the land sacred
altar of Abraham when he was promised the land
But crimes gather around the vulva tucked between your rises
thefts and violations—
the woman who helped women
raped and then avenged by men in sanctimonious terror
the youth stripped of his identity and rank by
his brothers and consigned to a far-off servitude
Blessing and curse reside on your slopes
The curses that attend Ebal glisten in the bright sun
sickness, dust
insanity, defeat
The blessings only repose on Gerizim in shadow
the wealth of nations
prosperity and health
The voice of God was not heard the day
that Joshua read the roster of consequences, both good and evil,
in the valley
the very day he put a city to the torch and committed atrocities
against its soldiers and women and king
The people did not say, “Amen”
Yishai
Fugitives rarely survive
Who would sign on to the fate of one?
Even a wily fugitive
feining loyalty one day and imbecility the next
Common wisdom: the doddards of the meeting halls
endure and prevail
But convention does not always choose winners
when youth is opposed to disenchantment
dynamism against reactivity
agility matched up with complacency
One night in the wilds of En-Gedi
fixtures were toppled
fact and future met around a scrap of cloak
The fugitive bowed to the king
while the king made the fugitive his heir
A frayed, fraught entente was poised
in the most profound fold of a cave
The greatest faith is to hold one’s hands out to the churning rush
To bow to cataclysm
Knowing you too will be swept into the abyss
Moriah
Had we not gone to the mountain
We could have raised our goats and children in the lush valleys
we would have lived peaceably with other pastorals
relocating only when there was contention over wells
(and we might have moved on forever when the cisterns were empty)
But I can’t imagine life
had we not gone
A land that is granted
must always be defended
For every truth there are always
two doctrines
(at least)
Our destinies stream toward the future like pillars of smoke
Now the engine of feverishly stoked expectations roars to life
and the stone that crowns the mountain erupts
Sinai/Horeb
Rains, streams, soil, and shrines had we
to express out thanks
Yes, we had everything
and suddenly they were gone
Just like
the prophet
champion of his people, who ended
fleeing from them—from his traitorous companions
from city and fertile fields
from the land itself
desperately waiting for a message
What would I now have in order to know my family
my cohort
myself
in a foreign nation
Someone define us!
even though we were never united
never sure who our people were
But so long as every choice we make
every day, every hour
proceeds from a single instant…
a clash of thunder…
a command we did not even hear
We’ll survive
Andy Oram
July 8, 2026
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