The Old Fig Tree

I only sang to the old fig tree As it trembled under the wind I promised you since you left I'll drink grief enough for both of us I'll open like the gulls My wings on the horizon And under the November sun I'll wade into a cold Natifah's brook Inviting your friends who accompanied you in the war To our old home Sitting next to our old fireplace Talking about our homeland, How the men descended Two, three and four toward their death Talking about storms that flooded homes About horses that plunged into rivers So that shadows became frightened in their land Talking about one who Still kindles the wet firewood And how the rooms are filled with soot After the flames stopped Talking about what they did What they couldn't do About your heart hungering for holiness How you passed death twice Thus death returned defeated Once you made from it, a home, a door and a lock. We'll talk about all of this Until the wind shakes and the fire is extinguished Then I"ll recall in my mind How everything around me was just empty seats Ah how bitter you are O Wind! When you took all the warmth All the love in my heart.