Passover (5749)
On Fairfax, near Farmer's Market,
I'm told I should marry.
To grow old is no bargain
They mutter in their long black coats
And nod beneath their yarmulkes,
Noticing how my hair thins:
This is a sure sign of worry.
A wife will calm my nerves,
A full head of hair will be mine
One year to the day
I stand under the chupah.
The holiday just tomorrow:
What am I doing with my life?
How can I pray alone on the Sabbath?
From whom shall I receive nachas?
If not now--when?
They offer to make inquiries for me.
Late evening,
I lie alone
Searching the darkened universe
For tiny Stars of David
Glittering in the sky
I dream of endless Seder Plates,
Stacks of Haggadahs surround me,
I cannot reach the charoseth,
The cup I've filled for Elijah
Empties before my eyes,
The Four Questions become Five
And I behold the Ten Plagues
Spread upon the unleavened bread at my side.
I scream
Loud enough
To disturb a Pharoah's nap.
I wake the next day rested
And recite the morning sh'ma.
Dressed in a cobalt suit
I walk to synagogue,
Tallith and phylacteries clutched in hand.
Today's prayer is one of redemption,
God knows my affliction--
Reciting Kaddish,
I ask to be led
Out of bondage from Egypt
Into the land of Israel.
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The Harper Returns
To pattern a life--
A deed worth dying for.
In the mother tongue of a father's heart,
A word forever spoken,
A blessing more noble
Than the only son at dawn,
Dangling on a cross.
With wood and wire and glue--
This is how it is done:
Piece by piece,
A temple on a strand of porous sand,
A church in the midnight sun.
Strike your hammer on every golden nail,
Singing hymn after hymn.
And it is never complete:
Reeds bend in a wind,
Dancers dispense with the dance,
A steady strain drops beyond the vale,
One lone voice echoes...an emerald glen.
Still, the architect stretches silver strings
Across the shores where once Cuchulain walked.
for Dennis Doyle
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