And Joseph bound the sons of Israel by an oath to bind their descendants by an oath, saying, “God will surely remember you and your descendants, and when He does, you must have them take my bones up from here.” ~ Genesis 50:25
When I die I want them to take my bones
and bring them to where I came from.
I’m just not sure where that is.
It could be the promised land.
If I could find a paper trail that definitively
had my feet there, it could be there.
It could be in Syracuse where the first Cohens
toddled around the 19th Ward before the
neighborhood became a highway.
My mother was a Cohen and though
my father didn’t give me her name
I still claim a familial bond.
It could be Florida. I spent some time there.
Though probably not. Please don’t
lay me down permanently in Florida.
It could be New Jersey where
I first breathed the air, but they
probably won’t remember me.
It could be Paris, but I think
I’d have to die there to earn it.
I wouldn’t mind dying in Paris.
It could be in California where
the foundations of who I am were
forged by the holiest of people
like Joseph, who became who he was
in the narrowest of places, but still asked
they bring his bones home.
Rick Lupert, a poet, songleader and graphic designer, is the author of 28 books including “God Wrestler: A Poem for Every Torah Portion.” Visit him at www.JewishPoetry.net
