Do you remember what it was like?
Walls of water taller than a Grand Canyon.
Our feet on dry land.
I have a vague memory of even the mud
being dry, so the walk was comfortable.
Is that how you remember it?
What about stepping up on the other side
only to see chariots in the distance?
The brief fear that it was all a lie
that we can’t really have nice things
assuaged by the closing water
and the floating spears.
A song and dance led by a sister
the one who followed the basket
a sweet singer of Israel.
Do you remember that melody?
It was us, after all,
not a separate set of people
thousands of years ago.
Those were our feet.
Those were our voices.
Do you still sing of your own freedom?
Can you find the double portions of manna
laid out for you as you take your left turns?
The water springing from your rocks.
Are your feet still dry?
I sing a song of the sea.
I remember it like it was yesterday.