Zimri* and Cozbi*,
Death to the union of
Their Song of Lies
At the entrance of
The Home of the Holy.
A princess
Paraded past elders,
As a trophy.
Without the
Embrace of The Divine,
A woman lays,
Reduced to the realm
Of physical form,
Assuming the place
Of an Idol.
Sometimes,
Some things
Simply have to die.
Sometimes,
Some things
Cry out to be
Killed.
In the 7th century Rabbis codified
The “Broken Vav”
In the centre of
The Shalom
Of the Brit.
Peace sliced in half;
The spine slashed.
Any narrative
Severed at its centre
Cannot withstand
The violence
Of two opposing sides.
Sometimes,
Only one story
Can be rewarded
Life following the razor’s edge
Of a bittersweet
Priestly Blessing.
Whenever trauma
Breathes itself
Into art,
A deep healing
Can be found.
This poem is
Not yet
Complete.
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* Zimri means “my music”
*Cosbi means “a liar”.
