Lion of Judah
If only I could wrench the film behind your eyes and hack her out of the halide crystal, paw a few ribs away, the apex of a waist oh so concave.
swallow excessively,
a current swells at the crux of my throat; a scent so nostalgic,
I Want It.
—
I saw a rescued man on the evening news, hooded almond eyes crinkling at the sides. Everyone looks on as his body shakes, voice undulates, a boy with no umbrella abandoned under harsh rain. I could howl out like a mother; what did they do with your Red Balloon? Ruby rivulets down your time-creased cheeks. Ruby stained soles on the path that led to you. The kitchen is very distant now; a salt-shaker, a pan, frantic, gesturing hands, fifty miles away behind frosted glass. They burnt you to a cinder but the scabs gave you away, gold-gilded limbs as he staggered out the cage; hello David. What a wait.
A little girl in the locker room giggling out “Mommy I want a coffee, with extra espresso, please” in a sopping princess swimsuit, would rather sing than shower out the chlorine. Mom wonders aloud where she learned that word and says “sweetheart, sure,” promising her a chocolate milk. Monday the third of March, I swore I heard Shiri.
Superheroes are just the types to unlatch every pen at the zoo, setting them free on an endless tan savanna. An orange cape drapes the floor of a dirt cell as he kneels level with the shadow of an animal cramped in a filthy corner, the only one who wouldn’t flee.
“Kfir, look at me” and his head draws forward, copper mane catching light. The young lion eases open his dark wells of eyes, shaped like half-clementines. He takes in the boy and bows his head half-hearted, resigned; poachers stole his only brother, why not succumb to a people’s pastime?
“It is Ariel, your brother; G-d placed the spirit of a lion in me, a little boy so they couldn’t see” but Kfir knows instantly, by his deformity: the big heart beating heavy outside of his chest.
—
Everyday, arming yourself for a selfish and cowardly battle. Your abdomen indents where it gives into the muzzle; remember that. Shots ring out and the smoke razes all, including the earth you stand on, promising nothing. Throw away the seeds of peonies, the soft lotions, prayers to static air, all ploys you abuse to justify a life here. Convincing no one.
Eulogize over strength, obsessively. Commensurate with how great your lack of it.
Fleeting moments of fortitude, conditional love collapsing in a moment’s notice, doing it all with your neck hot from a gaze bearing more weight than G-d’s
in rotten allegiance with counterfeit-resilience
by midnight, our noses so near through the pexi-glass.
My fingers drawing circles on your sides, your back
Hello Lila, or
all the lightning bugs I slammed under sealed mason jars
in a few moments water in a dark, humid room will deceive me into thinking I don’t really resent you
“I am who I am because you sold me”
Perhaps you’ve done unto yourself what Joseph’s brothers did to him
on a scorched earth of your own creation,
surrendering to the wrong
set of eyes
heaping shame on the Lion of Judah, but I saw Him
in Kfir, Ariel, and Shiri that night
Her Song descends from Golan to the salt-teared Sea, the Jordan
torrents, spilling out Yarden
eroding a gorge where her hands should have been, until
their malevolent jeers landed like a deliverance
lean in with glee
let gnarled rock devour you
But she is too quick, isn’t she?
last night was frightening, so she drew the drapes
nudging your soil-stained cheeks as dawn breaks, as if saying
“silly, let’s try again”
every ache drowned out by a tightness around your torso
unlike man
the arms of an angel refuse you a minute to breathe
David HaMelech arises in a garden of gerber daisies
adorning every inch of skin
he walks alone, as Hashem gazes on at the four of them
Ariel, Kfir, Shiri, and Yarden.
גּוּר אַרְיֵה יְהוּדָה מִטֶּרֶף בְּנִי עָלִיתָ כָּרַע רָבַץ כְּאַרְיֵה וּכְלָבִיא מִי יְקִימֶנּוּ
Judah is a lion’s whelp;
On prey, my son, have you grown.
He crouches, lies down like a lion,
Like a lioness —who dare rouse him?
(Genesis 49:9)
