Salt

Lot's wife disobeyed
A command of God.
She looked back.
Most likely yearning
For a final glimpse of her home,
The land that held her parents' bones,
The land where she fell in love,
Where her children were born.
Her refuge
Her nest
Her garden of memories.

She was turned into salt
A pillar of hardened crystals,
Like the sleep in one's eye
Multiplied from mote to monolith.

How cruel of God to punish one
Simply for choosing to look back
Upon one's roots, home and nest;
The past that made us all what we are.

Don't look back!
How can we help but do so?
To deny our history
Is to deny ourselves.

A sailor asks his messmate
To "pass Lots wife"
As though she's a whore
Hauled up a hawser
To be hidden below deck
To be shared among them.
An old salt's spice of life
Perhaps worth one's salt.


Yeah, pass Lot's wife.
That shaker laden
With tears of regret
Tears of longing
Tears of lamentation
Tears of frustration
Tears of despair,
and rarely, too rarely
Tears of joy..

Any man worth his salt
Knows that the salt of the Earth
Is derived from tears.