Parsha Poems

We’ve reached the end of the Torah! I’ve loved writing these poems and sharing them. I’m not going to do another cycle, but I encourage other people to try writing parsha poems - it’s a great way to learn and think about the ideas that come up. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy learning the next cycle of the Torah.

blessing falls like water from the hands of our prophet our river-born child as we stand by the water ready to cross.

Your summer ended that day alone on the mountain and I wanted to write you a poem or a song but I found one already written. If your words were the rain — drumming on dead pavement, feeding flowers in the hills — let mine be the dew.

It is so hard to remember. My mother will not tell me, my elders do not speak, we are lost with no gods and this is not your land.

will it rain soon? I can feel every scar where you hurt me

sometimes I hide until you believe you’ll never see me

I’ve known you so long and now I hear your song returning

Today we all stand, here and elsewhere. Secrets belong to God but today is ours.

I’m settled here another year’s fruits given to the priests, grain in the storehouse I am blessed

It wasn’t always so my father was a wanderer, my mother gave birth in the fields, we cried we cried out so

two witnesses to kill a man two cast the first stone two witnesses to marry them joy sings in Jerusalem.

How many peaks beyond the river? Two, a blessing and a curse. How do I cross from here to there? Bury your dead and follow the fire.

Bury your dead and follow the fire, open your hand and let seeds fall, pour blood on the earth like water for the land needs its life.

Are you ready to live in the land? Is the distance too great for you? If only you heeded there would be no needy — they will always be needy, for you do not heed.

I did not climb for the angels. This is not their book.

Who are the stars of heaven, but you? this is your land and this your word.

when, since the beginning, have heaven and earth seen such as this?

who, from the ends of heaven, has heard God speak from fire and lived?

why us, the smallest of peoples not city-builders nor ancient greats, but us, us?

God knows I've led you long enough wandered with you, carried you I led your parents up to their land but they saw giants and would not go.

how does one go from Rameses to the Jordan Sukkot, Sinai, Kadesh through parted seas storms of birds sister against brother spies defiant falling manna

She came to me in the night told me not to go She told me not to curse the blessed

I was caught in the fields pressed against the wall how could I see where to go

are we not all holy? you have too much who are you to hold yourself high?

is it not enough to be close to God who are you to stand apart?