Hineni, Here I Am - An Interpretation Of The Akeida - The Binding Of Isaac

Hineni, here I am

And here I will stay

Through socketed heads and crescent shaped blades 

Crusading madmen forsaken - and Inquisitorial courts

Xenophobic monarchs - and the goose stepping sort

Hineni, here I am

My soul ceaseless and free

From the pales of settlement and Zyklon-B

In the face of red and white keffiyeh – and children strapped with bombs

When under the arm of skulking crossbones - and tsarist pogroms

At God’s behest I once was bound

But at His hand, a goat spared my life

Foretelling four thousand years of survival, amidst four thousand years of strife

Hineni, here I am – Am Israel thrives

Od Avinu, Od Avinu, Od Avinu Chai

.....................................................................

Postscript:  The "socketed heads and crescent shaped blades" is a description of battle axes - one of the tools of the Crusades.  The "skulking" crossbones were an intentional play on words, an allusion to Nazi Germany.  The red and white keffiyeh is an allusion to Hamas.  The "pales" of settlement, also a play on words - an allusion to the Jewish settlement that was created by Catherine the Great (Czar Catherine II), the "Pale of Settlement," where the Jewish people were subject to Russian pogroms.

Magical Thinking

When I grow up, I know what I’ll be

A doctor, an engineer, a Captain at sea

I could heal the sick – or solve an environmental quandary

Command a naval fleet - like William F. Halsey

I’ll wear an ecological breastplate and bullet proof armor

I’ll shield myself from illness, iniquity - error

I’ll emulate the actions of those wiser than I

I won’t presuppose, lecture, or lie

I'll publish prolifically and earn the highest distinctions

Recognition and affluence - my only afflictions

I’ll be a trustworthy friend - and my parent’s pride

In duplicity and calculation I could never hide

But it was within those walls that I authored this story

It was there that I wove a future of virtue and glory

One shielded from sickness, sin, and calamity

One impervious to indulgence, regret and ignominy

Into a middle age pond, my aging self reflected

Putative vocations – all since rejected

No bulwarks had frustrated disillusionment or strife

No parapets portended an unsullied life

For such malfunction – inadvertent or deliberate

For pain inflicted – and actions inconsiderate

For every selfish act and times of moral insolvency

A child's soul bids fervent apology

Her castle was sand - her dollhouse synthetic
Puerile delusion less than prophetic 
Never will she seek to cast the first stone
Never will she let someone else feel alone

Emerging Butterflies

She’s barely thirty

Mother to eight - a ninth on the way

She considered birth control

But with whom would she play

One baby’s daddy was murdered

One stays busy planting his seed

He’s indifferent to his son's truancy

And urgent psychological need

One papa is on methadone maintenance

Another's eligible for parole in fifteen

One’s cuddled behind a dumpster

Moans as he sleeps - and wakes with a scream

Three babies’ daddies live pillar to post

Borrowing from Peter - paying Paul late

Their daughters' calls go unanswered  

Weekend visits - too difficult to make

We have all that we need

Says the Mother of eight – soon nine

I have my children’s “income”

And get them to school half the time

Yes, their Medicaid has lapsed

And no, I cannot fill their prescriptions

But it was the government’s error

So they can shove their contrition

Send the parenting aid away

My home thrives in disorder

If Your Honor disagrees
Do a pick up Order

Now eight brothers and sisters

Have no reason to roam

They sleep soundly in four beds

Across three foster homes

Like emerging butterflies

Their wings cautiously unfold

They’ve been given tomorrow

Their wingspan yet untold

I can't wait for Mom to see us

Just look at how we've grown

She'll shower us with kisses 

And then she'll take us home

Accord and Satisfaction

She was stationed at the head of a sprawling table
Clad in impartiality, surrounded by six empty chairs and a ready room
“They’ve mostly arrived,” the Coordinator tells her

Conciliation and empathy were no shows
Resentment and repudiation came early
They marched into the room, their steps archetypically discordant

She listened, as barristers bloviated and parties postured
She heard - enmity’s voice and antipathy’s quiet rage
She watched, the parties’ unsteady hands and unmanageable tears

She asked about interests, rather than positions
She probed for common ground – and found it
In the face of an absent child

The discussion turned to him
To his education, his welfare, his access to two parents
Areas of solidarity unearthed – and manifold

She listened, as rigidity crumbled and tensions thawed
She heard - the plunge of positions and good will’s eruption
And she marveled, as clenched hands released, faces brightened, and a collaborative future was forged




By Rachel A. Elovitz on March 31, 2011

Liberty's Armageddon

Antiquity and humanity war in relics' grip
From the Horn of Africa to China's Western tip

Incendiary pageantry wakes with dawn's early light
Autocratic jabberwocky weds militant hype

Amidst Pearl Square assassinations and Solmalian piracy
The world makes its bed in greed and hypocrisy

Sunni and Shia locked in cadaverous conflagrations
Blood soaked streets mark Bahraini protestation

In Sanaa, Yemenites duck tear gas and stones
Even bellwether states have forgotten their own

But in America allegiance - one Nation indivisible
Under God we stand united, lest things become political

Shrouded in public odium our hands too readily from our hearts remove
To burn the flag in effigy and compatriots reprove

Jackals and lambs at liberty's table guardedly await
As dominos collide – and knock on justice's gate



By Rachel A. Elovitz, March 3, 2011

Northbound

My train extends a thousand miles
Every boxcar crammed with cargo
Chronicles sealed in steel
I want desperately to bring this freight to a halt
To get off this monorail
To unbolt the caboose door
Dash down the stairs
And amble up the open tracks
Savoring whatever time I’ve left of this singular journey
Leaving behind the weight of things
The reels of acid that daily revisit
Dissolving my insides
Extinguishing judgment
Pain as pointless as it is poignant
Consuming all that could be
Atonement for naught
Lest my sins repeat
Injuring the brakemen, flagmen, ticket collectors - all
Every part of me tarnished and tired
I’m carrying 4000 tons
And moving 70 miles an hour
But I can open the brake pipe
Slow this train
Bring it to a stop
Walk off
And wave goodbye
An application for amnesty
Before I march forward
My compass northbound
Toward a raging tsunami
It pours over and through me
Carrying away grime and folly
I gaze over my right shoulder
The train is dazzling in the sun, a radiant red
Its materials are unencumbered
Pages without pain
The train and its cargo vanish inside me
Its ride was mine
But not me
Not anymore

This Second

An Ode to Legal Guardians and Adoptive Parents

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Her dance is mercifully blissful

Her laughter, heaven’s cackle  

A sparse apartment for seven

Her enchanted, cherubim castle

Of her father’s crime she’s clueless

She knows not her Mother’s love - or slaughter

The voices she hears each morning

Say that she’s her Aunt and Uncle’s daughter

Her brother tenderly takes her hand

As he opens a Courtroom door

He remembers all too well

The life they had before

His manner is always courteous

His speech, a rejection of his sorrow

For him the journey begins this second

Not yesterday, not tomorrow

From the bench a ruling

Formality these children cannot comprehend

They sit quietly at a table

Mom and Dad at either end

That their parents did not give them birth

Merits zero contemplation

That they are loved and nurtured

Is their soul consideration

Written by Rachel Aliza Elovitz on February 10, 2011