Dancing at the Well: For Miriam, Who Was Not Mourned

I danced with Miriam
in the dark,
while the sea curled,
hungry and wild,
around our bare feet.

We danced
in jubilation
and filled with glory.

And I drank from her well.
The water was sweet,
tasting of summer,
and it cooled my fevered skin
as I walked the Wilderness
and learned to hear
the stillness of God.

And we danced
with timbrel and lyre,
voices raised in exultation,
hands clapping out a rhythm,
hungry and wild,
and the music curled
around our swelling hearts.

Now I grieve at her well,
and it echoes 
not with the Sea,
but with her silence,
and my sorrow.
And my feet do not dance.
And the timbrels do not sing.
And oh!
I thirst for sweet water
and the stillness of God.

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