The Promised Land

Working for an end,

where the goal is always hidden

behind the next mountain.

Am I Moses?

.

I rally and cry,

like a thousand flamingos.

.

Even among other birds

the flamingos stand out,

despite being one of the few zoo animals

to sit among a plethora

of other types of avian friends.

.

Moses worked,

he hollered,

he stirred emotion,

he probably cried,

and he didn’t pass

the threshold to his goal.

.

I kick

the hypocritical threshold

with the anger

of a thousand bending knees

standing above tepid water.

.

He hit the rock,

trying to get water.

Apparently anger

isn’t the best method

to convince others

to cough up their belongings to you.

.

I apologize,

as I at the same time curse,

at the threshold which

in name disappeared,

but is still squatting in my way.

.

The knee unbends

at the flimsy flamingo

kicks my pride in the teeth,

as my feet scream like a cartoon character,

trying to stop the break-neck-run

tirade,

as I now must wait.

.

He asks for the water,

waits,

gets it,

is punished.

.

Will all my work,

be for naught?

All that pulling,

charming,

teeth-gritting,

and threatening?

.

Will I ever get to see

the promised land?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s