Last year, I posted a poem I wrote about Passover. The poem considers the Passover story from the point of view of the women, coping with death and life and the journey.
It is analogous to Deborah’s song in Judges 5, which comes down to the mother of Sisera, the general fighting against Israel, wondering why her son hasn’t come home.
Experience the first Passover night.
An angel of death.
Blood on the door.
Wailing mothers and dead sons.
Wailing mothers whose sons were saved.
Deadly silence across the land.
Egyptian neighbors come to the door.
“Here, take these gold things,
Go and worship your God,
he has taken our sons.”
Jewish mothers hold their sons.
And they cry.
“Who cried for our sons enslaved and mistreated?
Cruelty has begotten cruelty,
sin has precipitated death.”
And from this dreadful night
Witless and afraid.
Would Pharaoh cut them down?
Carts and oxen.
Burdens and animals.
Children and elderly.
A hard journey ahead.