An Ever Ascending Song - After Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Ta’anit 23a

By Penina Satlow

And so it came to pass

That I was not born into a world of carob trees

Though I am the seed

standing tall

planted 

Seventy          or               one-hundred and twenty            or            two thousand years ago 

Hilda ate only over-ripe bananas 

And under-ripe dreams 

Washed down with lukewarm tenement tap water

She never knew my name

Or the taste of carob trees 

I only know the echoes of her laments

Sitting and weeping on the shores of Babylon 

But I have known no other home 

And my tongue is swollen with the sweet fruit of ancient labor 

So heavy it’s difficult to lift 

To sing

                                    unto 

                                                                   You 

                                                                                                        a new

                                                                                                                                                 song