crossing hackensack

 

Crossing the Hackensack

 

PASSOVER (5749)

 

On Fairfax, near Farmer's Market,
I'm told I should marry.
To grow old is no bargain
They mutter in their long black coats
And nod beneath their yarmulkes,
Noticing how my hair thins:
This is a sure sign of worry.
A wife will calm my nerves,
A full head of hair will be mine
One year to the day
I stand under the chupah.
The holiday just tomorrow:
What am I doing with my life?
How can I pray alone on the Sabbath?
From whom shall I receive nachas?
If not now—when?
They offer to make inquiries for me.

Late evening,
I lie alone
Searching the darkened universe
For tiny Stars of David
Glittering in the sky
I dream of endless Seder Plates,
Stacks of Haggadahs surround me,
I cannot reach the charoseth,
The cup I've filled for Elijah
Empties before my eyes,
The Four Questions become Five
And I behold the Ten Plagues
Spread upon the unleavened bread at my side.
I scream
Loud enough
To disturb a Pharoah's nap.

I wake the next day rested
And recite the morning sh'ma.
Dressed in a cobalt suit
I walk to synagogue,
Tallith and phylacteries clutched in hand.
Today's prayer is one of redemption,
God knows my affliction—
Reciting Kaddish,
I ask to be led
Out of bondage from Egypt
Into the land of Israel.

 

 


 

 

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