Sinai Stars

person looking up at dark night sky with shooting star

My tensile strength is traveling
To some undisclosed location.
Our eclipsing nation shadows me
With confusion and hatred.
Terrified, I grab the outlines of a falling limb,
We fall to the ground, together,
And I spin into the darkness
Of concussion and confusion.

They’re coming:
For me, Blacks, Hispanics, and fellow Jews.
The rumbling on the street  
Sends vibrations through my feet.
Incoming boots churn the dirt
As the breeze turns as brown as their shirts.
The shaking moon grips the horizon;
Flames like blazing peacock feathers
Devour the darkness.

Passing before my half-opened eyes,
Flambeaus bob in the night,
Rockets rise skyward but cast no light,
Arm-banded death squads toss life like trash,
Like Heather, still flying through the air
At Charlottesville’s Downtown Mall.
That Blue Ridge city’s still grieving,
With the twilight’s last dreaming.

Chants of “Blacks will not replace us!,
Jews will not replace us!”
Pound in my ears.
My wife of 40 years
Reaches for my hand.
I lean on her shoulder as
She helps me find my feet;
Her holding gaze glows like candles;
Now it’s safe for me to stand.

The wind blows through the leaves
Then lingers in my hair.
My eyes are filled with Sinai stars
And tablets made whole with healing.
Our legacy echoes through the ages,
And sings within my ancient ears.
Emerging from fear,
I had fled, driven by the drum
But now I look skyward
And remember why we’re here.

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