Valley of Bones*
The Lord set me down in the valley,
the fertile crescent beginning.
It was full of bones: clavicle, carpal, calcaneus
lying in the valley: fabella, femur, fibula
and they were very dry. hamate, hyoid, humerus
He led me around them: ilum, incus, lacrimal
in a slow dance: parietal, patella
kicking up the bone dust: sacrum, scapula, sternum
stirring the breath of God. tibia, talus, turbinate
Can these bones live?
Higher, higher they are piled
800,000-plus dry bones
wrapped with sacred cloth: red, whte and blue
young, strong bones
groaning in their sorrowful hymn.
Still I dance around
Seventeen-million more bones
lying on their natal ground.
And the dust swirls
forming a cloud of garnet
raising the scent of blood.
Listen, mortal,
your brother’s blood
your sister’s blood is crying,
crying out to me from the ground.
The sobs form the walls of this valley
and its rhythm-beat
drives your dance.
Then He said to me,
Prophesy to these bones, mortal.
So I prophesy.
The bones fall together
end to end: metatarsal, malleus
bone to bone: maxilla, vertebrae
sinews and flesh echo in the waiting silence.
Prophesy to the breath, mortal.
I prophesy,
and the breath comes from the north
and the breath comes from the south
and the breath comes from the east
and the breath comes from the west
The dead cry out—
our bones are dry,
our hope is lost;
each hour more join our valley with no end in sight.
Who will see us?
Who will hear us?
Who will bring us peace?
And the Lord said,
Prophesy mortal, prophesy.
*Based on Ezekial 37. Bone numbers are derived from Iraqi Body Count and US military deaths multiplied by the number of bones in the human body.
