I brood upon the waters, waters as yet calm –
a soft and giving mattress resting
on the ocean bed; upholding ships that pass,
swimmers, baskers floating and feeling
the tidal pulse, the heartbeat of the world
thrumming through the birth waters of life.
But Pharaoh's fearsome grasp,
fist clamping tight on Hebrew shoulders
stirs an eddy in the tides of time.
Ripples become waves become cascading currents;
an ocean's weight heaves and shifts
the mighty, grating plates; they hurl
the waters back, untacked and torn from ocean floor,
a tsunami of plagues, coursing, rushing,
dragging down and clamping under.
I am the Angel of Death. I am despised
and feared, mistaken for my Master’s enemy.
I visit His wrath on Pharaoh’s grasping greed,
his lust for fame, for towns to bear his name,
the immolated slaves, the whiplash stripes,
the broken pledges, stony-hearted pride,
freedom refused, humanity denied.
I visit all in time, but for today
pass over those with life blood on their doors.
Fear me not. Mistake me not.
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