Epilogue

O God of Sinai,

Where, then, is ten?  Concaved or convexed?
Could ten have been omitted, or annexed
to lithurgies or ancient scrolls concealed from excavations? 
(Unorthodox doxologies of Hebrew incantations);
to poetry composed before our Homer could initiate 
mankind in prehistoric lore as Athens first novitiate? 

Does Satan shroud the tenth to whet gnashed teeth on Your creation?
Have you allowed, because of it, another explanation
to sanction truth’s longevity against imprudent brevity?

Did man not get, verbatim, Your final ultimatum?
Is it yet in suspended state that we might strive to elevate
Above our weaknesses to find a clever ransom YOU designed,
lest all mankind should mourn at Satan’s gate?
True, God is God and therefore can.  But wait   .   .
That premise, while worthwhile, excludes
free will when Lucifer intrudes;
and thus impudently disputes
Mosaic Law of absolutes.

Mankind has courted thoughts like these:
what’s false?  what’s true?  what’s trivia?
predating Orphic mysteries,
forward in time to Socrates
postulating in Phthia   .   .

Then forward still to cedar trees that shade near Eastern mystic haze,
rooting their young in expertise for shadowed and yet lucid phrase - 
though critics misquote words with ease in covert and in overt ways,
distorting thoughts formed to incite through attitudes abusive
to orthodox religious rite.  Are such censures inclusive
in God’s as well as Church’s sight?

“  .   .  half heaven’s convex glitters with the flame”*
but half is dark and alludes common sense.
O God!  From random thoughts should I abstain
lest, even musing,  I give grave offense? 

The mystic view does help to satisfy
inquiries of some questions You propose.
Ghandi, Gibran, and myth’s Gaea (as I)
did feel condemned to share the trail we choose
from point to counterpoint to ponder why
You fashioned paradoxes as man’s wage
for pious fallacies, though heaven knows
I covet sanction for each mystic sage
in excommunicated aftermath;
denied approvals seal to each rampage 
penciled on a crude and curious path   .   .   .   .

*Thomas Tickell

The Curator’s Notes: After the devastating confession of the Ninth Commandment (“I covet everything, I’m exhausted, maybe hell is easier”), the poem writes this epilogue that asks: Where is the Tenth Commandment? Did God hide it? Did I miss it? Or is there something beyond the numbered commandments that holds the key? It’s a theological detective story wrapped in existential crisis, ending not with answers but with “a crude and curious path” trailing off into ellipsis. This epilogue doesn’t provide closure. Instead, it opens into mystery. After nine commandments of wrestling and one poem of exhausted coveting, she ends by asking “where is ten?” and trailing off without answering.