The Hinge

My brother is still alive and living
In Fresno.
 
All day he stares at the dead bodies
Of automobiles
 
In his garage. It isn’t a prison
He’d wish himself free of.
 
I visit him,
Dragging my boxes
 
Of books and awards
Behind me.
 
We are walking out of the city
Into the white flame of the desert.
 
Not unlike the Desert
Fathers walking out into Sinai.
 
My brother carries his briefcase
Loaded in icons and dollar bills.
 
He is wearing Larry Levis’s shining
Suit and black leather boots.
 
I am wearing a pale gown
Of sun-bleached flowers.
 
We are talking
About the Resurrection.
 
We are walking dead
Into it
 
Leaving the world and its sweet chorus
Of horrors behind.
 
There is no city
But the city within.
 
No door, but the door
To simple wisdom.
 
We walk, dumb
As newborns
 
Into the tremendous and endless
Blessing.
 

Cynthia Cruz, "The Hinge" from How The End Begins.  Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Cruz.  Reprinted by permission of Four Way Books, www.fourwaybooks.com.
Source: How The End Begins (Four Way Books, 2016)
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