Isaac

-Courtney Druz 

When he climbed the steep ramp

his steps loosed pebbles—all else was silent;

choice syllables of father, son,

hung like dust in the morning sun.

He held his tongue steady

as a blade upon the throat.

Earlier still, they had laughed.

He’d forced his own name up

in a cry from the gut,

such laughter as named him

the choice son, God’s promise.

Now he swallowed the trail

of his own tongue’s promise.

His lips bid his lips fall silent,

but the rest of his body mocked him.

His legs trembled above each step,

his bowels loosed language in fear.

And he became empty, above and below

of his command, and the words of all lands

and he reached the level place

and he laid him down and waited.

Courtney Druz has published poetry in a variety of journals including Entelechy: Mind & Culture, The Other Journal, and  Zeek.  She holds a B.A. in Religious Studies from Brown University and a M.Arch. from the University of Pennsylvania, and has also studied at the Pardes Institute in Jerusalem.