Colored Egg in the Sky

I’m on an airplane, Happy Easter. I am rising in a mid April sky with puffy sleep eyes.
Why am I on a plane on resurrection day? Ask the rest of this full jet.
If we fall from the sky like Belial, it is fitting.
I’ll drop blue tear globes full with fear of death and then laugh
at my own misfortune for skipping church- like a stone
on a still lake that always wants one more bounce in the further direction.
Or like a plane- crash landing into the ocean belly first; a white whale from the sky.
I see myself clinging to a seat cushion wondering if my prayers will be taken as sarcasm.
Sharks surround me while most of America is uncomfortably seated, hoping for a piece of gum
to chew away the bad after taste of Welch’s and a bleached white Wonder Bread crumb.
My Easter is in the sky over clouds looking down at rivers.
I can’t tell if they are moving but I’m certain this plane is.
I see a million rooftops of one million homes and imagine all the Easters
happening right under me. It has to make up for missing it at home.
In the evening, with Oakland’s shattered windshield streets outside
and the soil that almost hums with tension underneath, I celebrate Haggadah
with bright flour-free-faces. We laugh together. I mess up Rabbi names reading from a packet.
I fall asleep later with a wine blanket, comfortable underneath
the years and rituals of a faith I’ve never practiced, the plagues of Exodus
humming like locust on the banks of my dreams.
Jesus is just a man not even born yet and Moses might not even know
how good vegan matza ball soup is.

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry, Prose, Rambling

One response to “Colored Egg in the Sky

  1. Desmond Tutu

    GD Ryan, make a new post already!

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