On The Day Isaac Lay Upon The Rock Poem by guillermo veloso

Isaac felt the knife
The smell of sheep, manure and sadness
Rust blood stone, chilled mountain air
He heard no voices
He saw nothing this day
To stir fear as his father,
Trembling, wild eyed, palmed the dagger
Stoned sharp and eager
Still on his throat
On the rock
On the hill
On this day
Still and cold on his throat,
His father's heavy aged,
Desert smoothed hand divorced from
His body was
Firm and resolute
Never betraying the mad doubt that
Tormented his thoughts
Clawing about in the dark
Isaac was still
He felt the blade
It rested on his pulse
It rode his breath
It held a lifetime in a cold second.
For the trust of a father
For the trust of a faith
The red-stoned altar cried for
Its due
What god would demand this
Proof?
To sever the vein
Of his vein
Scatter the mist of his blood to the winds
What god could ask this?
We are like Abraham
Knives to the vein
Our flesh spread like offerings
To an exhausted god
The blood drips, pools and
We are numb to it
This carousel of blood
Spins a druid circle
Enclosing the carnage in
Indifference and blindness