Collected Poems Anthony Burgess (best pdf reader for ebooks txt) 📖

it is the

Resin that falls from the tamarisk tree. I have tasted it.

It is blown by strong wind, lying like a gift on the ground.

A fine flakelike thing, fine as hoarfrost,

White as coriander weed, and the taste of it

Is the taste of wafers made with honey.’ She smiled.

‘A poem?’ – ‘A song’, he said, ‘sung by Jethro.

He taught me the song and I sang it to Zipporah.

I sang it about the body of Zipporah.’ –

‘How soon’ she asked, ‘shall I meet her? And see Ghersom?’

‘Oh,’ he answered, ‘there will be more days of grumbling

And days of short-lasting joy. And, God help us,

There will be a time of bloodshed.’ He brooded, but she

Asked no question. He, brooding, looking into the fire,

Saw enough blood in it. But one thing at a time,

For soon the tamarisk resin came blowing in, another miracle,

So many miracles, bread from heaven: they crammed their mouths,

Their baskets. There seemed no end to it, soon

No urgency in the gathering: it was always there.

But one day a family was manna-gathering blithely

And Caleb came to them, stern, to say: ‘Come.

You must come with me. And bring your baskets.’

‘What is this?’ said the father. ‘Why? Who are you?’ –

‘My name is Caleb, not that it matters. You,

Do you know the law of the Sabbath?’ – ‘What law? What Sabbath?’

The elders, sitting in judgment, were patient enough.

‘The law’, said the presiding magistrate,

‘Has been clearly laid down. The Sabbath is for rest,

For thinking of the Lord’s justice and goodness.

No journeying – so it is enjoined. No work.’ But the father,

Spluttering, indignant, said: ‘But we were hungry.

We were not working. We were gathering food.’ –

‘You must have your food ready on the eve of the Sabbath.

We make no distinction between kinds of work.

Shear the sheep, mend a tent, gather food –

It is all work, and it all fills time that should be filled

With the contemplation of the Lord. Work must not defile

The Sabbath of the Lord.’ – ‘Mad, it’s madness!’ –

‘Oh, can you not see’, the chief elder said, ‘can you not – ’

But Aaron, silently arriving, completed the sentence

And added more: ‘Can you not see, you fool,

That if God rested from his work on the seventh day

Then man, made in God’s image, must rest too?

That only to slaves is every day the same –

Toil, toil and again toil? That man, God’s image,

Is not just toiling flesh but contemplative mind,

And for contemplation there must be leisure?

That leisure must not come capriciously,

Irregular, but in a known rhythm?

That leisure must be total?’ And the elder added:

‘Thus saith the Lord. Have you, friend,

Anything now to say?’ And the man mumbled that he was

Sorry. ‘This is a first offence? Very well, then:

Discharged with a solemn warning. And, ah yes –

Go hungry till tomorrow.’ The father, mother,

Children looked glum at that. But Aaron smiled,

Saying: ‘Tomorrow begins at sunset today.’

So they smiled and got them gone. The rule was mild

In those early days of the journey, the children of Israel

Truly children in the knowledge of the blessing of freedom,

The harshness of freedom. The blessing would be long delayed

In the eyes of the many, but the harshness they had known

Was nothing to what was to come: it was coming.

9

THE MOUNTAIN

They struggled through the wilderness of Rephidim,

Where there was no bounty of quails or manna,

And soon, with their bags and water-flasks long empty,

They yet found strength to stone Moses, stone him,

For there was no shortage of rock. Aaron, Joshua, Caleb,

Even Miriam were swift to protect him,

The whole tribe of Levi, stronger-hearted than the rest,

Was a jagged fortress about him, but even there

Despair rose and the old cry of water water.

He could only raise his face to the burning sky

And cry: ‘What shall I do with this people?

Tell me, what shall I do?’ The answering voice,

His own voice, was angry and strident, saying:

‘Stride forth to the rocks. Strike the rocks

With your rod. They shall have their fill of water,

My thirsty people.’ So he struck and struck,

Rock after rock after rock, and it gushed out,

Silver water, and bellies and vessels were filled with it.

There was little gratitude: miracles were their due.

And Dathan was even ready to doubt the miracle,

Saying to his cronies: ‘See. Anyone can do it.’

He smote the rock with his cudgel, saying: ‘See.’

And water trickled forth. ‘Porous, you see.

This rock holds rain like a sponge. You hit it,

No more. The Lord God, indeed.

Cunning, cleverness. Anyone could have thought of it.’

So they went about, hitting out trickles. The Lord, indeed.

It seemed certain to many that the Lord was not with them,

Never more so than when, one night among rocks,

The night fires burning out, on the verge of the encampment

Rods struck, knives struck, rocks rained,

And where there had been night quiet was shrieking,

Cursing, bellowing, bleating, and the

Laugh of triumph in a strange tongue. A raid,

With the carrying off of cattle and women,

Men lying brained in the sick dawn. Moses saw

And said: ‘The Amelekites. This is their territory.’

Joshua cursed: ‘We are weak. We have no weapons,

None except these wretched arrows and bows.

I always said we should be ready for this.’

A tremulous elder kept saying: ‘It is the Sabbath.

By my computation it is the Sabbath.

We need a ruling. Do we fight on the Sabbath?’

And Moses: ‘Oh, yes. We fight on the Sabbath.’

Aaron looked on the crude weapons

Joshua had made, Joshua and some of the other,

And said: ‘When did you make these?’ Joshua answered:

‘In my leisure hours, such as they are, and, of course, on the Sabbath.

There was nothing else to do except contemplate God,

And this, surely, does not count as work?’ There was silence,

A rather embarrassed silence. A young man named Koreh

Broke it by saying: ‘I have no experience of war,

Nor have any of us. Slaves are not warriors.

But I think I could suggest a simple strategy.’

Moses said: ‘We are listening.’ So they listened.

When the next night raid came they were ready with

Lambs laid out as decoys, temptingly bleating,

And, when the Amalekites appeared, Joshua and his

Warriors rushed out of the rocks with rocks and arrows

And killed and put to flight, killing with daggers

Dropped by the put