@ sunset

so, what is passover?  why on this night

do we lean?

is it in memory of a moment in time when you were

excused from a horrible death just

to go on living a horrible life for

forty more years, parched instead of beaten,

was the dessert that much better than the whip.

oh, don’t get me entirely wrong,

I know the destination was never meant to be earth,

in its fickled manner of giving

and taking away, almost at times,

at the same time.

and on that night blood was

painted onto the doorways of the innocent,

or was it the victims… Oh yes, yesterday they were

the victims and today they are the saved.

It can happen that quickly you know.

religion always stole my spirituality.

it gave me a glimpse of what i did wrong

to inherit the earth and promised in

another land, in another life, that

i would be the saved–but not this time around.

this time around it was my turn to suffer

the outrageous fortune of being born to long,

long for this, long for that–then pray that

the longing would go away because it hurt to

want and to not have…so i prayed not to want,

then that was what was wrong–discovering

that it was because i did not want that i did not have.

“you have it all wrong,” they say–you are suppose to want

but not to long—

you have to get it just right–to be saved.

then the prayer turns to gratitude, dear lord,

dear god, thank you for the life you gave to to me,

for the chance to experience the multitude of

feelings jagged here and there, poked here and there

with pains and promises all at once.

yes thank you, i think, for passing me over–this time.

thank you that it was Egypt’s turn–this time,

thank you for making me an Israelite –this time.

Thank you for the faith that allows me to endure

until it is my turn to return to eden, to go back to

the garden–resplendent with gratitude & filled like

a rams horn of plenty.

then god, it will be my turn to praise you,

in all your glory–

but until then, while i am longing,

you too must wait — because while I long, I can

not praise your name.

And who for us will intercede

when even saint’s shall comfort need.

Will you need comforting, God?  Will your

angels be enough, if man is too tortured

to stop and think about who you are….

Good Lord, even your son will say, on that

dreadful day, “why have you forsaken me?”

Can you really expect more from me?  Or is

it me that continues to think that I should

go on loving you even when

all the oil lamps are out.

But on this night,

we lean, recline in splendid comfort that, for now,

we am passed-over…….

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