The Merchant's Song

To reach out my hands would not be so hard
if hands could be made of gold.
If shine and weight are everything in this world
I would turn these shallow platters into bowls
finish and fire them until they glowed
fill them with fine wine and perfume
and set them out in front of me
to intoxicate the evening air.

Then buyers would come
and we would talk about exotic lands,
the price of passage from Bangladesh to Jerusalem,
potters, goldsmiths and winemakers we knew
testing our cunning in purchase and trade.

Or maybe wisemen would arrive from the east
seeking the Star
and we would talk about the day Adam woke
with his side wounded,
the woman green and fragrant
as the sun rose behind her,
her hand finding his hand
as angels shook dawn light from their wings.

And when the wisemen struggled toward Bethlehem
and the buyers crowded around me with their coins and eyes
I would say in my heart,
"If I could reach out my hands to you, I would.
If I could mold my hands into gold, I would."


—Eric Nelson