A poem for Hoshanna Rabbah
A few words about Esther for a Christian audience

Pictures and words (Hoshanna Rabbah)


My footsteps across
this patch of earth's scalp
release the scent of thyme.

Even in the rain
the squirrels have been busy
denuding the corncobs.

The wind has dangled
my autumn garlands
into rusty hieroglyphics.


Every day the sukkah becomes
more a sketch of itself,
beams hinting at emptiness.

The canvas walls dip
and the cornstalks wither,
revealing variegated sky.

Today we plead "save us."
Today we beat willow branches
until the leaves fall.


The end of this long walk
through fasts and feasts:
we're footsore, hearts weary

from pumping emotion. We yearn
to burrow into the soil
and close our eyes. We won't know

what's been planted in us
until the sting of horseradish
pulls us forth into freedom.


This is a revision of the poem I posted earlier as a poem for Hoshanna Rabbah.