Tazria-Metzora

 בס״ד

Tazria-Metzora

He spoke, and all his words were heeded,

Of the nature of the one, en-seeded,

Who in bringing forth this soul, succeeded,

How long tameh, and when tahor?

If male, just thirty-three are needed,

All these days must be completed,

If female, these are superseded,

Doubled now to raise the score.

No mention here if someone pleaded,

That the span of tumah, up be speeded,

The cycles press on unimpeded,

Just as they had done before.

At last, the tide of time receded,

And just like challah, freshly kneaded,

Rising now, growth unimpeded,

Leavening, the life she bore.

Shemini

 בס״ד

Shemini

For seven days the kohanim wait,

At the entrance to the mishkan,

For the dawn of morning number eight,

To bring close their final korban.

Bearing calves and sheep and bulls and rams,

Fine flour mixed with oil,

To the mishkan, rebuilt one last time,

Through Moshe’s sweat and toil.

 A fire coming from HaShem,

Consumes the final traces,

The people sing for joy, and then.

They fall upon their faces.

But, sadly, two of Aaron’s sons,

Nadav and Abihu,

Bring, unbidden, fire pans,

And they get roasted, too.

Shevi'i shel Pesach

 בס״ד

Shevi’i shel Pesach

Suf, the threshold between two realms,

One of darkness, one of light,

Some designated to cross on sanctified earth,

Untouched by foaming walls of tumah,

Others, simply swept away

Into the reeds.

There are those who tread on dry land,

For others, thick fingers of oozing, angry mud,

Resent their passage, unwheel them,

 “You shall not pass”, echoing,

Between raging waters of debris,

The discharge of slavery.

Shock and awe erupt from a jagged fissure,

A tidal wave of the redeemed,

Gushing from a fractured flint,

Inundating the pursuer.

Agape, from the eastern edge of the abyss,

They gaze, wordless, as Egypt drowns,

In its own inhumanity.

Tzav

 בס״ד

Tzav

Moshe lifts them, one by one,

Offerings upon their palms,

Aaron and his chosen sons,

As prayerful as a psalm.

I do not hear the Levites song,

In my mind, there’s not a sound,

No clamor from the silent throng,

Who wait to watch the turban wound.

At the פתח (pesach) of the ohel moed,

Seven days they must remain,

As they uplift korbanos, meat and bread,

Which lifts them, all the same.

Vayikra

 בס״ד

Vayikra

diaphragm, liver and kidneys

organs which separate above from below

and thresh seed from chaff

why with these are we makriv our shelamim?

are we, out of gratitude, pledging freely

to isolate from breath, and eliminate from blood

reckless speech and unfit thought

the dross of human nature?

not limbs nor hide, but only these, are cast

upon the mizbeach, and with kindred fats

their spirit ascends through a filtering fire

sifted, leaving only ashes behind