Photo is taken with dslr camera on sunny day outdoors

The Last Living Jew

roll up! roll up!  see the last living jew!

poke him with a stick!  beat him till he’s blue!

 

Head high, melancholy of countenance,

Serious of mien, I pace my cramped cage.

Dirt for my chair and more dirt for my bed.

Neither table nor desk nor ink nor pen.

All this I could bear – but no books!

 

set fire to his beard!  rip and tear his shirt!

throw pennies at him, watch him scrabble in the dirt!

 

And yet I study, for study I must.

If Torah is studied, there are yet Jews;

If there are yet Jews, Torah is studied.

I open a mental Gemarah

Begin to query, analyze and think

“What time do we say the Shema at night?…”

 

the mighty jew who ruled the globe,

a greedy, ruthless xenophobe!

he thought himself so superior,

us poor goyim like bacteria!

he started wars though didn’t toil,

others died to win his spoils!

he ruled the press, controlled the banks,

from washington ruled all the yanks!

he settled lands without a claim,

he thought that none would dare complain!

the refugees who fled the battle,

were slaughtered in their sleep like cattle!

he loved to hurt, to maim, to kill,

it gave his heart a little thrill!

most of all he loved to eat

for his annual passover treat

unleavened bread, all undefiled,

baked with blood of “heathen” child!

and when against him the world did turn,

he decided it should burn!

with credit crunch and terrorism

and drugs and porn and atheism

he so corrupted our society

spreading every impropriety

that just to end our own disgrace

we had to wipe out his whole race!

to remember, we’ve kept one specimen

lest we forget this race of vermin!

 

The people stare at me, seem to know me,

My bloodied face, my straggly beard

My eyes that pine.

Perhaps they do know me, have seen me before

For I am Shimshon, captured, blinded, enslaved.

I am Chana’s seven sons, martyred in youth.

I am Rabbi Akiva, martyred in age.

I am the six million.

I am the millions more the world forgot

And the Jews could no longer number

Because there is no number so big.

 

And the faces that I see at my cage,

I seem to know them, I have seen them before:

Haman, Hadrian, Torquemada, Hitler,

Crusaders and terrorists,

Fascists and Communists,

Nationalists and universalists.

Believers in love and

Believers in tolerance and

Believers in peace.

But not for me.

 

fucking jew what’s he doing here?!

fucking jew we’ll make you know fear

fucking jew go home!

 

Home!  I remember my home, long lost now:

The dry wilderness of the Negev and

The fertile hills of Yehudah and

The tranquil waters of Kinneret and

The shore of Yam HaGadol, the Great Sea …

“And the number of the Children of Israel

Will be like the sand of the sea

That can not be measured

And can not be counted…”

 

Yes, I remember home…

I remember going home,

Sent home in disgrace

Because I didn’t die

And no one knew what to do

With my living corpse.

And then expelled again.

They didn’t want me there either.

They don’t want me to live with them.

They don’t want me to live elsewhere.

They don’t want me to live.

 

our patience is exhausted!

we’ve treated it too well!

let’s all slit its throat

and send it straight to hell!

 

I ignore their noise, brief and trivial,

Return to the eternal and profound,

The one last sanctuary of the Jews,

The only home we were never made to leave:

The four cubits of narrative and law.

 

“And you shall love the Eternal your God

With all your heart, all your soul, all your might”

Said Rabbi Akiva, “All your soul” means

Even if He takes your soul, love Him still.

The Romans arrested Rabbi Akiva

For teaching Torah.

They took him out for execution

At the time of the morning Shema.

As they combed his flesh with iron combs

He accepted the yoke of Heaven

And died declaring God’s unity.