It's Shabbat, before fast of Av.
Iran Deal sizzles inside all Jews.
German ovens’ stench, we sing the blues.
Our temple remains shattered- atone .
All in post traumatic mode, none alone.
They say we control the world, its wealth,
in small numbers win large prizes, stealth.
Why not just build our temple today?
Why wail in woes, wearily pray?
My dad asked a rabbi greeting us in a new land
that first day out of Iran, escaped to England
“When will we ever settle?”
“When Mashiach comes, of course.”
“When will that be?”
“Anytime now.” Have no remorse.
There are cathedrals and mosques tall and proud
but Jews have a Wall, empty synagogues, backs bowed.
Our House of God is Shabbat, above a cloud,
Not tangible- in the temporary we are a crowd.
Dear God, meet us in that crevasse in time,
In a fast, in a life free of reason or rhyme,
Wipe our tears, hold us near, keep us dear,
Adon Olam- You are with us, we shall not fear.
