Poetica Magazine Contemporary Jewish Writing

god/God remains a ? for me

which I have been directly addressing since age 5 or so

in response to the entreaties from my father the Orthodox Jew

who would tell me god/God was watching out for me

and I had to stop testing him,

god/God and my father,

this related to, among other things,

my night-time sojourns around the neighborhood

at age 5 or so once my parents were asleep,

followed by the routine visits from the Brookline police

who returned me to home base and

with whom I and my parents were on a first name basis.

god/God who? I wanted to know.

The One, my father would say (or shout), the ONE

who sees and hears everything,

the One who gives us life and knows when a life is ending,

the One who gives us choice to do good or evil.

I learned to stand still and face him, because

once he started talking

he would forget how mad he was at me,

and eventually give me a hug,

and then we would find something sweet to share.

From those experiences,

I learned that it helps others if I appear to listen

instead of questioning authority all the time

which my father assumed would earn me the title of

Jailhouse Lawyer, at some point.

Not yet. That’s what I could say to him 35 years later,

as he lay dying in a cancer unit.

Finding air somewhere in one of his rolling phlegmy coughs,

he says in a raspy whisper, “So, did they get you yet?”

And I say “Not yet.” I am crying quietly.

And he whispers, “There’s still time.”

And he laughs and coughs.

And I cry louder.

And cough.

And we are together, for the last time.

And it is Passover, and the desert walk goes on.

Mizmor L'David Anthology