The Blogs: A Poem for Parshat Vayera -- Searching | Leann Shamash

What follows is an imaginary exchange between Yitzhak and Sarah as Yitzhak climbs Mt. Moriah with his father. Where was Sarah as Avraham and Yitzhak approached the mountain top for the event which will change the lives of all involved? What were the thoughts or Yitzhak, a nearly silent character? When we next hear about Sarah she has died, perhaps of a broken heart.

At this time there are so many are so many Sarahs. So many broken hearts.

May we hear better news soon.

* * *

(Please note that this piece is written in two parts. Each has its own font color.)

Searching

“Where are you, Mother?”

he asks himself as he climbs

The donkey is laden with kindling wood,

It plods forward, as in a trance.

His father looks neither left nor right,

just stares straight ahead,

He, too, plods forward, step over step.

“My son,

I am searching for you.

I wander in an endless landscape, barefoot.

My feet scrape over stones and brambles.

I leave a trail of blood and tears.”

“Where are you, Mother?”

he asks as mumbles the number of his steps.

45, 46, 47, 48.

His father is as stony and gray as the rocks they pass.

Still they climb.

My son,

I walk through a valley of darkness searching for you.

Perhaps it is a valley of my own invention?

It is dark here, my son,

but I have brought no light to light my way.

I am mired in a nightmare that I cannot wake myself from.

I must find you, but my eyes do not see.”

“Where are you, Mother?”

he whispers through trembling lips,

“For I see the mountain top through the clouds.”

86, 87, 88, 89

“Mother, my heart says turn around, but still I walk forward.”

“My son,

I struggle to find to you!

You are my eyes,

You are my breath, which grows ragged now.

In my heart I am running to you, my son,

but the darkness does not lift.

My feet no longer can move; they are as heavy as two stones.

From afar I hear the sounds of mothers calling their sons

for dinner,

“Come home, they cry!”

“Come home my son, I cry, but no one hears my cries.”

“Mother, we near the mountain top.”

650, 651, 652, 653

I count to calm myself.

“Mother, the stones are here, the kindling wood,

but where is the ram?”

“Mother, where are you?”

“Mother?”

“My son,

my only son,

my dearest son,

I am failing you.

“Adon Ha’olam, carry me to him.

Give me wings to fly.

Take me from this darkness.

Teach my feet to move again.”

“Melech Ha’olam, are You listening to me?”

“God, it is me,

It is Sarah.

The laughter has left my body.”

“Are You listening?”