Annas ben Seth
It is madness, unmitigated
madness that drives us over the edge.
Caiaphas: puppet, useful tool.
All the same he spoke the truth,
“One man should die for all.” But only
I could truly see enough to know:
the powers that rule would brook
no competition. We shouted,
“Caesar is Lord!” Blasphemy!
Even so: reality.
Lately I’ve been dreaming of
a body encircled by birds of prey.
The corpse becomes a withered vine,
a barren tree and eagles who
transfix themselves on golden poles:
crosses around this sacred place.
All is lost: the nations win
and we are naught. It is all
a joke and I am left with bile
burning in my throat. The future
is given to fools who would destroy
us all with their demented delusions.
I saw this all within my dream.
The wandering rabbi understood;
and though I am loath to say,
I see him riding on the clouds.
The valley of Hinnom smolders tonight.
To support the poet’s benign coffee addiction: Coffee.