Companions

At equinox, he left the Riddermark
on Shadowfax to hasten Frodo's way.
'Though Saruman'd gone wholly to the Dark,
some puissant allies still defied his sway.
While Mithrandir sought counsel with the Wise,
four hobbits took the parlous road to Bree,
where Aragorn--still in his Ranger's guise--
was welcomed to their growing Company.
One elf, one dwarf, plus Boromir the Tall,
at Imladris, at nobody's behest
responded to a Higher Power's call
to make the Nine entrusted with the Quest.
Such links we forge in times of mortal strife
lend joy and purpose in this fleeting life.

self-referential

The Midrash shows us Moses on the Mount
inquiring why some characters get crowns.
He's told there'll come a sage, on whose account
whole tomes unfurl from what's been written down.
Time-travel's not the greatest wonder here; 
Akiva's martyrdom goes unexplained.
The prophet like whom there will be no peer
is struck with awe, and wonderment unfeigned.
"Echad" rings with the sage's final breath;
he smiles as if he needs no further word.
The reader gropes for meaning in his death;
our world--as we encounter it's--absurd.
No afterlife's explicit in the text;
it's not for us to know what's coming next.

Ki Tetzei II

Elisha ben Abuyah watched a son
chase off a mother bird to raid her nest
and quipped he'd get reward for what he'd done
obedient to his old man's behest.
Dual mitzvot surely marked him for long life;
it's inexplicable he'd be cut short.
But this boy died, and never knew a wife.
Elisha lost all faith in Heaven's Court.
Meir watched this play out, and yet stayed true,
convinced Truth laid obscured beneath p'shat.
A fundamentalist can't stay a Jew
insisting Torah's something that it's not.
the Deuteronomistic quid pro quo
seemed indefensible as youth smashed, dead
two paths diverged; Elisha couldn't go
the pious route. He hunted proofs instead.
No earthly tally always works out right
the wicked prospers, and the righteous bleeds.
No father could forget this awful sight;
his son got villain's wages for good deeds.
The metaphoric ledger just won't sum
without more columns for the World to Come.

Ki Tetzei

Elisha ben Abuyah watched a lad
ascend a tree to score a free-range meal
obedient to please his hungry dad
dual mitzvot surely meant reward for real
the Deuteronomistic quid pro quo
seemed indefensible as he fell, dead
two paths diverged; Elisha couldn't go
the pious route. He hunted proofs instead.
No earthly tally always works out right
the wicked prospers, and the pious bleeds
no father could forget this awful sight;
he saw no prize for his son's pious deeds.
The metaphoric ledger just won't sum
without more columns for the World to Come.

Job II

Job's children were as treasures in his eyes
but all were snatched away like so much breath
no dispensation for the pure or wise
misfortune's indiscriminate as Death
three friends perform a pious dance and song
their visit may evoke Abraham's tent
haKodesh barukh Hu proclaims them wrong;
their arguments should leave no one content
if God's omnipotent, what's Evil's part?
if we knew only good, could we be free?
were there no tension between head and heart
we wouldn't struggle with theodicy
the problem's unresolved where the book ends
Lord, spare me from such trials, and such friends!

on one foot

"in brief, what's God's demand?" the stranger asked
Shammai dismissed him, brandishing a stick
Hillel acknowledged teaching's his life's task
and summarized Halakhah double quick
divinity's indwelling in us each
it's not just in a book, or in the sky
it's in your neighbor's face, within your reach
it's here and now, not waiting 'til we die
Olam haBah's constructed day by day
it's not a destination for the End
just as you'd treat a trave'ler on the way
is what you can expect from kin, or friend
Shammai laughs last, millennia of fools
have studiously smothered love, in rules

lift up thine eyes

the attitude of gratitude is key
to finding satisfaction in this life
there's more delight in what's on offer free
than marrying an umpteenth trophy wife
a marketer invents a new desire
then foists in on us like it were our own
but all we're buying is a bigger pyre
one more attachment for which to atone
contentment's on the path, not in the goal
and can't be packaged like mere merchandise
the dirt that shuts a rich corpse in its hole
is unimpressed when--like the rest--he dies
from birth to death the journey's all too brief
to trade the dancing joys for plodding grief