My hair is white but not like how Moses’ hair is white

Peggy Shaw by Alfred Cheney Johnston

This is:
My hair is white but not like how Moses’ hair is white

I’ve always been fascinated by Moses’ hair:

Did it really turn white up on the mount.

From conversing with God, way up there?

I’m not sure it happened like this.

I’ve got white hair but I don’t count,

God’s number amongst my contact lists.

The Almighty took silence.

I got white hair waiting for the voice.

I don’t live in a deep forest, but I don’t care

Of angels who cannot see for the trees.

Conversing with burning bushes, they’re

Hollow acts setting fire to themselves.

I’ve got white hair but I don’t believe

In burnt angel shaped cinder memories.

My angels have combusted.

I got white hair from their settling ashes.

I’ve often wondered: Did Moses’ staff of prayer, 

Struck on the coast to set his people free,
Really split and part the deep Red Sea?

That conversing with waves to get over there

Wasn’t just part of the orbit naturally?

I’ve got white hair but separating a sea

Was not as hard as between you and me.

My lovers have drowned.

I got white hair from the salted air.

My gods silenced themselves.

My angels burned themselves.

My lovers drowned themselves.

And I got white hair.

But not like how Moses got white hair.