News of Arab Springs
reverberate down the ages
through times of austerity.
Green shoots through desert sand.

For that Arab Spring
we don’t ride with Josephs & Sons
into an Egypt promising sanctuary
dragging chains in an Egypt of plague,
with a Pharoah begging
“Moses, go.  Get me a blessing.”

For that Arab Spring
hope and moonshine
for a people on the run from oppression.
An uprising thirsty
for the blood of  lambs,
and Egyptian oppressors.

For another Arab Spring
we ride with Joseph’s son
into a full moon of another garden.
This time a lamb questions,
“do you thirst for this blood shed?”
“Is there a blessing for Pharoah?”

This Arab Spring,
an uprising for tormentors
of chalice shed for them. Cheers,
a kiss, and the strange taste of freedom.