My Holy GPS: A Poem for Torah Portion Va’etchanan

But beware and watch yourself very well,
lest you forget the things that your eyes saw

These are things I saw –
A set of ancient words so long
I could barely see them over the sounds
of rampant other-room video games.

I saw a lunch announcement devolve into
screaming on the television, as if
the watchers, comfortable on their
couch of freedom, forget about

the Holy Land they were promised.
I saw a leader trying to summarize
everything we had already experienced
so we wouldn’t forget about it when

he got stuck on the wrong side of the river.
His nagging voice becoming the
stuff of memories. His grave on no map
for us to pay our respects.

I saw images of all the things I should
not see images of, or that I should at least
ignore in the context of worship. I saw
many unveiled reminders to worship.

But not the likenesses of winged birds
or beasts or fish or anything that crawls.
Just the Invisible. The Thing I once asked
not to see because my face wasn’t ready.

It’s still not ready for That.
I remember everything my eyes have seen.
Every image a lesson, embedded in
my ancient soul.

Seared on my heart.
Words from a long-gone leader
My textbook. My holy G.P.S.
My future not forgotten.

Los Angeles poet Rick Lupert created the Poetry Super Highway (an online publication and resource for poets), and hosted the Cobalt Cafe weekly poetry reading for almost 21 years. He’s authored 23 collections of poetry, including “God Wrestler: A Poem for Every Torah Portion“, “I’m a Jew, Are You” (Jewish themed poems) and “Feeding Holy Cats” (Poetry written while a staff member on the first Birthright Israel trip), and most recently “Hunka Hunka Howdee!” (Poems written in Memphis, Nashville, and Louisville – Ain’t Got No Press, May 2019) and edited the anthologies “Ekphrastia Gone Wild”, “A Poet’s Haggadah”, and “The Night Goes on All Night.” He writes the daily web comic “Cat and Banana” with fellow Los Angeles poet Brendan Constantine. He’s widely published and reads his poetry wherever they let him.