Miriam’s timbrel still echoes among the rocks
Bringing her past to my present,
Bridging the river of time between us,
This prophet whose tune infiltrates,
Distorts and challenges all my ideas of her.
Pilgrims drinking heartily at the well,
Immortalize her in their fervent love,
Trapping her memory with ill-fitting notions,
Reprimanding for questioning authority,
Faulting her for threatening the order of things,
Yet she was daring enough to bite into Adam’s apple.
With no agenda and no need to pedestalize,
I come only to sing, to celebrate her humanity,
The victories and losses are such music to the soul,
Her fortitude and doubts are part of my song, too.
I, who am Eve to some, Adam to others,
Moses in some quarters, find Miriam is me.
