"Ani
Chinor l’Shiryich." - Rihal
Shouldering a sackful of Sartre,
and a duffel bag full of bones,
I glanced to the stars,
and abandoned Los Angeles.
I walked between the wind and the women,
past Greece and Rome,
Parthenon and Pantheon,
and all the beautiful half-truths and partial
lies,
and it was always Persia before me
declining over the horizon,
always Persia behind modest curtains,
swallowing quarts of soup, devouring gallons
of salad,
cleaning quail from salacious incisors...
until I found a harp in Spain,
singing wholly of Yerushalayim.
M’Afara,
V’Avaneha,
Ad
Sha’ar HaShamayim.
I remember I thought: "I have found a MAN."
No, not just a MAN,
but a man...
if not a malach.
And I sat by his side,
near his feet,
in the dust,
and the early rains came,
bearing spices and herbs,
and the late rains came,
bearing greenery and gourds,
and between us,
always,
words,
and war.
* * * *
Friend.
Rebbi.
Father!
You said, "Libi
V’Mizrach, V’Anochi B’Sof Ma’arav."
And I began pouring blood on paper.
You said, "Hem
Nisharu B’Vavel, Maskimim LaGalut V’LaShibud."
And I remembered the blue screen sky de-faming
Los Angeles,
and the children born daily to the district divinities.
And I continued to pour,
hoping people would be stained.
But Father! Father!
when I saw you beneath the horse’s hoofs,
I, too, brought my lips to the ground,
and rolled in her dust,
and wept on her stones,
and my life became an ode.
-- Michael Berger
footnotes
Rihal was born towards the end
of the 11th century in Spain where he lived until 1141 when he set out
for Jerusalem. According to legend, he was trampled to death by an
Arab horseman while he kneeled and kissed the stones at the outskirts of
the city. [back]
"I am a harp for your songs."
[back]
Jerusalem [back]
From her dust,
And her stones,
To the Gate of Heaven. [back]
Usually translated as "angel,"
but signifies an "incorporeal intellect." [back]
"My heart is in the East, and
I am in the utmost West." [back]
"They remained in Babylon agreeing
to the exile and the servitude." [back]