American Yak

It is small, simple,
deep.

Everything moves in its way:
trees sway,
ice goes down,
the rising forest meets
the heather field.

There is much to say,
where mountains find her feet,
and skies meet chimneys,
as seasons pause.

This place is mercy,
it is abundant,
rich, like the fat cow,
planted in the pasture.

It is small, delicate,
but expanding to its root,
where its end should be found,
but breadth cannot.

Its hatred is unknown.
Waste, want, wishes,
all these are left behind,
sad, shriveled at the gate.

Then it is chosen,
it is wide,
unbounded,
unfettered,

Amid Mizpah and Jeshanah,
the stone of life,
the sacrifice,
both doing and undoing.
Akedah. Amen.

It is small, it is simple,
but found in all,
unknown and knowing,
it is chosen,

And choosing,
comes to majesty,
to grace, to song,
to brightness,
to countenance,

O deep and abiding love,
once reborn, anew,
followed in its course,
charted to its endless fount.