Four Children? Which One Am I?
When my expectations rest as dove on olive branch or raven hovering on thermal winds, wonder swells from the deep
breaking on the shores of my lips into syllables of wonder, What? How? Wow!
I am, a child of simplicity, being human,
ben Noach, wholeheartedly tam, the simple one.
Then longing arises with 1000 questions, and I try to remember
that while knowledge has answers, wisdom discerns which question to ask.
Through disciplined attention to detail arises the power
to harness the passion to know and be known into the service of a tam
and I become a ben Avraham, chacham, the wise one.
Mostly though, I am afraid – of loss, rejection, dependence.
It’s safer to love from a distance, see self as the source (not a steward)
of blessing and curse, playing judge, prophet saddled to an ass, ben Bilaam
so quick to blame and beat one of his own, I slip into
the wicked skin of rasha’, concealing collective divinity with toxic shame.
Then again, I know nothing. I truly don’t know what, who, how or why to ask.
Aini yodea’ lish’ol.
As tam, am I silenced by Mystery?
As chacham, have I lost sight of the question, so focused on answers.
Or perhaps I am silenced by grief, afraid to ask for help, companionship, love
here, waiting for you to sit beside me and say, “Here I am, my son, daughter, child. I don’t know either.”