Blood on her wings

This week we will read two highly unusual parshiyot, Tazria and Metzora. Tazria describes in details an affliction that can attack humans, clothing or homes and the rabbis teach that it is perhaps a result misuse of language in the community. This condition, called Tzaraat, which is so difficult to define that people cannot find an adequate translation for it, forces people to leave the camp when they are afflicted. The priests act as observers and dictate when a person can return to camp or when houses need to be destroyed due to the severity of the condition. The Parshiyot also describes different bodily emissions and what occurs to an individual after childbirth or a nocturnal emission.

Parshat Metzora, which follows Parshat Tazria, describes the sacrifices and ceremonies that the priest performs at the end of a period of person’s separation from the camp. In Perek 1Yud-dalet (14) it describes the unusual ceremony of two birds, one of whom is slaughtered over fresh water and then the second bird is dipped in its blood and set free.

“The priest shall order one of the birds slaughtered over fresh water in an earthen vessel; and he shall take the live bird, along with the cedar wood, the crimson stuff, and the hyssop, and dip them together with the live bird in the blood of the bird that was slaughtered over the fresh water. He shall then sprinkle it seven times on the one to be purified of the eruption and effect the purification; and he shall set the live bird free in the open country.”

וְצִוָּה֙ הַכֹּהֵ֔ן וְלָקַ֧ח לַמִּטַּהֵ֛ר שְׁתֵּֽי־צִפֳּרִ֥ים חַיּ֖וֹת טְהֹר֑וֹת וְעֵ֣ץ אֶ֔רֶז וּשְׁנִ֥י תוֹלַ֖עַת וְאֵזֹֽב׃

וְצִוָּה֙ הַכֹּהֵ֔ן וְשָׁחַ֖ט אֶת־הַצִּפּ֣וֹר הָאֶחָ֑ת אֶל־כְּלִי־חֶ֖רֶשׂ עַל־מַ֥יִם חַיִּֽים׃

אֶת־הַצִּפֹּ֤ר הַֽחַיָּה֙ יִקַּ֣ח אֹתָ֔הּ וְאֶת־עֵ֥ץ הָאֶ֛רֶז וְאֶת־שְׁנִ֥י הַתּוֹלַ֖עַת וְאֶת־הָאֵזֹ֑ב וְטָבַ֨ל אוֹתָ֜ם וְאֵ֣ת ׀ הַצִּפֹּ֣ר הַֽחַיָּ֗ה בְּדַם֙ הַצִּפֹּ֣ר הַשְּׁחֻטָ֔ה עַ֖ל הַמַּ֥יִם הַֽחַיִּֽים׃

Vayikra 14:4-6 (Translation from Sefaria)

The concept of animal and bird sacrifice is difficult in this day and age to comprehend, but I can form an image of this small bird that carries the weight of our words on her wings. Hence, we get to this poem, which is about the small freed bird, who is heavy with blood.

—

The bird has blood on her wings.

She tries to

fly.

She flaps her small

wings

and

blood spatters.

Tiny red drops

accepted

hesitantly

by the earth

below;

an offering of blood

donated

kindly, not voluntarily

the second

small bird,

chosen for his perfection.

Startled,

the bird stumbles and

collapses

under the sticky

weight

of sweet

blood.

The small bird,

almost weightless,

is dazed;

her tiny brain

not aware

that she

carries

the weight of gossip

embroidered

on her wings.

Criticisms,

Slanders,

Lies

weave themselves

Into the spaces

between

her softly spined

feathers.

Red blood

slowly

dries;

as brown as dirt.

But, look!

See!

She rolls herself in dust.

Moving furiously,

ridding herself

of the stench

of blood;

of the words

that weigh her down.

She is free!

The blood is gone.

The grime of worthless

words

is mixed with

the dust of the earth

below.

Small wings flutter.

The air hums.

Dust

escorts her

as she flies

away

from

this world

where words

are our commerce

and our downfall.

She flies upward

where there are no words,

Only wind.

Only clouds.

Only sun.