here on the sand

God, you identified with

the baby’s first gasping wail

the toddler’s teething drool

and the child’s reckless leap.

At your bar mitzvah you danced;

in your work you measured, sawed,

leveled, fastened and honed.

Rub your spit on my eyelids.

Then, build a fire, broil some fish

and tear some flatbread with us.

Forgo walking on water right now;

just laugh with me here on the sand.

Here on the Sand

a poem by Troy Cady