בס״ד
Lech Lecha
At thirteen Yishmael was circumcised,
along with his father Avraham,
a painful moment of rebirth shared,
unique between father and son.
What a visceral link that must have been,
but what this parsha leaves unexpressed,
is that Yishmael will be sent away,
Although, he too, will be blessed.
What is the nature of the covenant sealed,
with this “wild ass” of a nation,
a character trait that’s generously shared,
with each subsequent generation?
בס״ד
Noach
They could have been a band of brothers,
Survivors of a world be-drowned,
But Shem alone, and not the others,
Was close to God, so upward bound.
Brotherly love is not, at the last,
Assurance of spirit in common,
For Yafet followed a middle path,
And Cham, he chose the bottom.
When Aaron and Moshe Rebbeinu synced,
We see a fraternal exception,
The credit belongs to Miriam, I think,
For a sister can disarm dissension.
בס״ד
Bereishis
- created again -
- formed of clay -
once more infused with
the breath of life
what choices shall we
make this time
- giving or taking -
- making or breaking -
- eternal life -
- or unrelenting struggle -
would we put down our pekele
if given the chance
or say “no thanks”
without our burdens
how can there be
joy
בס״ד
V'Zos HaBracha/Simchas Torah
East of the Jordan,
On a mountain in Gad,
Rest the footsteps of Moshe,
The last that he trod.
Not pillar, nor gravestone,
Has there been detected,
No stone, no matzevah,
Was ever erected.
Like Aaron his brother,
And Miriam, in death,
No tomb could suffice,
Once he drew his last breath.
No, he etched his own marker,
As was bound from his birth,
Upon tablets of stone,
Which he drew from the earth.
בס״ד
Shabbos Chol HaMoed Sukkos
First comes an earthquake,
Then Gog and Magog,
Next Moshiach is coming,
Before we’re too old.
So recline in your Sukkah,
Be joyful and sing,
We’ll rely on HaShem,
As we wield David’s Sling.
As Yechezkel predicted,
Perhaps for our dor,
We will use those who hate us,
to mop up the floor.
בס״ד
Sukkos
the wings within which I am sheltered,
this bamboo roof, these fabric walls,
sunlight peeking though reed feathers,
shimmering, speckled, as it falls.
the encircling cloth veils and refines,
sun and starlight, smoothing,
what wings are these that envelope me,
whose quiet voice whispering, soothing?
by human hand erected, but a fluttering presence
alights within it, pinions unfolding,
a je ne sais quoi, an essence,
that the sukkah's dearly holding.
these wings are not for flying,
they are for embracing
the ones we love.
בס״ד
Yom Kippur/Shabbos
I used to be critical of Yonah
He flees from his mission
and his K’el
Avoids tshuva ’til he’s in the belly
of a whale
Completes his assignment in a
half-hearted way
Pouts and sulks when he doesn’t
have a say
I used to be critical of Yonah
But he sounds just like me
