Poetry

Poem by gershon hepner

Abraham

My language always is precise,
but I’m prepared to take advice
from people who can’t follow what
I’m saying. When I’m being hot,

some people cannot understand
my arguments since they’re not bland,
and even when they see I’m pensive,
they sometimes find my words offensive.
Although I try to be pellucid,
it is a nuisance that is deucèd
that I should be accused of being
obscure when I am disagreeing
with people who do not esteem
my words. It wasn’t Ibrahim
who walked with Ishmael to Moriah,
but Abraham who lit the fire
beneath young Isaac. That is clear,
though many do not want to hear
such simple facts, like those I write,
pellucid, although impolite.
The man who told God: “Here I am! ”
was very surely Abraham,
not Ibrahim, and that’s a fact,
which, like my own, I won’t retract.

Once You Touch A Butterfly

Once you touch a butterfly
it often, flustered, fails to flutter,
and cannot soar into the sky
without a sputter and may splutter,
because for butterflies the touch
of humans, friend or enemy,
can be calamitous, the clutch
of humankind’s hegemony.

When touching those whom we befriend,
no less than those whom we betroth,
we must take care lest we offend,
for, whether butterfly or moth,
the ones for whom we care may find
it hard to soar if we should brush
the dust, though trying to be kind,
from wings that, having touched, we crush.

 

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