When it was accomplished,
and Herod’s soldiers returned from Bethlehem,
a silence settled over the land like frost.
The odd wailing, like the purposeless wind.
And it came to pass in those days that a mother,
after her child was discarded, like offal,
lay cradled over it, a horizon.
She spoke to the angels,
“Grant to my child your tongues of fire,
else stay silent!”
And it rained all over Ramah.
It has rained since.