You Look Pretty Good for 121 – a Poem for Parsha Vayelech

Moses at one hundred and twenty one years
feels he can no longer come and go, and so
he will stay while every one else goes.

Me at one hundred and twenty one years
feels like I should have stopped coming and
going for at least fifty of them.

Moses at one hundred and twenty one years
still manages to jot down an entire Torah
for safe keeping.

Me at one hundred and twenty one years
will spend my entire last day dotting a single “i”.

Moses at one hundred and twenty one years
commingles with the very presence of the Holy
One, blessed be (s)he.

Me at one hundred and twenty one years
still claiming intellectual disbelief, but plea for
one more day when no-one’s looking.

Moses at one hundred and twenty one years
composes an entire song meant to guide a nation
for generations after his bones are known.

Me at one hundred and twenty one years
still resting on the laurels of that one good thing
I did when I was thirty-five.

Moses at one hundred and twenty one years
issues commands like a governor in his prime.

Me at one hundred and twenty one years
knows better than to tell anyone what to do.

Moses at one hundred twenty one years
has had a pretty good run and doesn’t plan on
slowing down. Just stopping.

Me at one hundred and twenty one years
pleading, don’t hide Your face from me. Just show
me a pillar of smoke. I’ll believe.