Friday, April 4, 2014


                                                                           By Evelyn Hayes,
                                                                           April 3, 2014
There is rebirth in the air,
Messy afterbirths are everywhere.
Every time we sweep more dried blossoms fall,
more shrivelilngs of the birthshell sprinkle the Jerusalem floors

How much debris from rebirth?
How much waste to purify the earth?
A metzora is outside the gate
Cleaning up his fate without talking it to sway..

Alone with his introspection
Reflection on rejections
The deficiency is isolated, not pardoned with affirmations of disinformations
To be reinstated from the core not the infiltrations of saying for delaying. .

Return is back into the borders
Taking orders of all the Cohanim for just himself
A punishment for selfishness, stinginess and excuses
By gossiping on the ruses.

Return with sin offerings, guilt offerings,
Swinging birds and turtle doves, lambs for lament;
Immersions into mikveh
Scrubbbing out the chometz, the mold, the should not be told.

A service before Hashem not them
Who pose as friends so he could be an over-seen
An offering for a healing away from the mingling, mangled ,
the wheeling and dealing under cloak of  screen.

There is rectification for the metsora, the house, the walls, the halls, all
There is a spring to cleaning, shaving hair and waving…
Purifying middle part of ear, thumb of right hand, toe of right foot.
The simanim, the secret of seven and Marchesvan 11.

Is the cleaning sufficient to fix his ways
The exile for seven days
And the dancing with Gd on the eighth
What does the crimson string have to do with it?

There is an exodus this time of year
Washing, wiping, stripping
All the chometz over soaked and dripping
There is more daylight in spring, Without darkness they don’t dare.

 There is freedom this time of year, primavera
Having isolated the germ-in-us
 Terminated chummery and calumny
Reviving the hibernated, the pure core.

So bright are the days of exodus
When the introspect is free of me-ists and their lusts
When the introspect is sanctified against malignancy
When the world knows His regency. Him, not them 

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