That’s right, he climbed mountains
to see the face of God.
I can barely climb out of bed
to wash my own face
at the sink with warm, running water.
Dealt with Seti and Ramses,
turned water into blood
while I find it such a burden
to make grape juice
from concentrate.
The hardest things to fathom
are those stone tablets with
the thou shalts and shalt nots;
of course, it took me twice
as long to write this poem.
Who am I kidding, anyway?
He could call in a dozen plagues,
lead the Hebrews to freedom in
an epic biblical exodus,
navigate a wasteland for forty years,
yet I, I who has everything,
can not seem to walk around the block.
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