Holy Anagrams

I’m in love with  anagrams,

Like children’s toys 

Letters , the muddy clumps  of

Tiny castles , a new architecture

On the shores of my mind.

My most beloved leggos are

Holy ones,

Letters of an ancient tongue,

The language of God-talk

On shiny parchment 

Found beneath the sands of time

I bite into bread-LECHEM-

The staff of life,

Its crumbs crushed by coursing fluids 

Along dense avenues of digestion,

To seep into cells and

Support my habit to live.

I sleep and dream-CHOLEM-

Man does not live by bread alone,

The soul seeks sustenance too-

Pie in the sky, the fruit of imagination,

The pottage of possibility and  purpose, the meat of meaning.

I awaken from a nightmare-LOCHEM-

My mind is at war-fear and anger,

Dread of death, of evil others,

Of wishes that wreak vengeance

Leaving behind  the debris of want and hunger.

I weep-CHOMEL-

My heart breaks with waves of mercy,

Humanity’s breast has dried up, 

The milk of human kindness has soured.

The bald head of a child,

The ribs of a baby reaching out 

For anything that will restore a barren body

To its rightful place 

Under a weltering sun

That robs her of LECHEM-

Of the stuff of life.

As long as I dream, draped by  CHOLEM-

As long as compassion caresses soul with  CHOMEL,

As long as I resist cravings of LOCHEM, of battle and 

conquest 

Then at last 

There will be LECHEM for all