TEN SEDER LIES
We didn't open the door for Elijah last night.
Miriam's Cup wasn't full of living waters.
The hidden matzah languished, unlooked-for.
Costumes for the pageant never left their box.
No one asked about the seder plate stowaways.
We decided to skip all of the poetry.
I didn't wake to the melody of imagined trumpets
summoning me to join the pilgrimage.
When I close my eyes, I don't see my ancestors.
No glimpse of my great-grandchildren up ahead.
Today's NaPoWriMo prompt invited us to write a ten-line poem in which each line is a lie.
The couplet about the imagined trumpets is a reference to the melodic motifs of festival nusach, the melodic mode used for chanting prayer on the Three Pilgrimage Festivals.