Tuesday, April 19, 2011

For Pesach (Passover)

They thought they were safe
that spring night; when they daubed
the doorways with sacrificial blood.
To be sure, the angel of death
passed them over, but for what?
Forty years in the desert
without a home, without a bed,
following new laws to an unknown land.
Easier to have died in Egypt
or stayed there a slave, pretending
there was safety in the old familiar.

But the promise, from those first
naked days outside the garden,
is that there is no safety,
only the terrible blessing
of the journey. You were born
through a doorway marked in blood.
We are, all of us, passed over,
brushed in the night by terrible wings.

Ask that fierce presence,
whose imagination you hold.
God did not promise that we shall live,
but that we might, at last, glimpse the stars,
brilliant in the desert sky.

Lynn Ungar, 
(from Blessing the Bread)

This is the first day of Passover.  Happy Pesach to everyone!


Tabor said...

Lovely and somewhat comforting.

MeANderi said...

Big goosebumps with this one! Christine

One Woman's Journey said...

I love this poem

One Woman's Journey said...

I am back
Just forwarded this special poem
to my children
and grandchildren
thank you....

Guy said...


What a powerful poem. Beautiful and terrifying imagery.

Thanks Guy

the wild magnolia said...

Thank you for sharing this, I know it will bless all who read the poem.

Great photo!


Anonymous said...

Thank you, that's a beautiful poem.

Cindy said...