JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

When he came down from the mountain

carrying the heavy slabs of granite

he might have done a little editing

changing a word here or there perhaps

adding or deleting a sentence

 

But how could he?

the words were set in stone

his fingers new and unaccustomed

to the chisel

 

He needn’t have worried

generations of priests and rabbis

imams and scholars, their fingers and lips

busy with interpretations, translations,

discussions, arguments and margin notes

in different languages and accents

 

Have embellished the words

disguised their elegant simplicity

replaced some of them with

threats and mutterings of sins

 

Until their eloquent beginnings

have been almost completely obliterated