Towards the height of the mountain
Was the question of gifts
And who should get to keep them
I sat between a downward slope—steep as no
—and a climb I couldn’t make except to crawl
I crawled on sand and sweated in my hat
Though G-d believed I crawled for G-d
I crawled to know the height of my own rage
I carried myself I cursed myself up
Slid down—and named the day adoption day
I didn’t bring my gifts to G-d
I kept them all
I crawled I stood I fell
I kept them all
