A strange, dreamless night passed,
I felt engulfed in a sea of memories,
That day I opened my eyes to seek out something,
I saw glass mountains and meadows, great meadows of stampeding, brightly colored elephants,
Wild excitement scribbled upon a child’s face.
At night, listening silently, motionlessly to the Voice of America,
The fall was gaining momentum,
Walls would crumble like fortune cookies,
We would eyewitness the currents of freedom whisking past us,
We sat, sat as the angel of death crushed the evil empire.
Moving rapidly, gaining speed,
Rolling over empty, lifeless terrain, then flight,
The Israelites flew, seated upon the Bald Eagle,
To America, a gathering of exiles,
Who were not present at Sinai.
“Look out the window, my son”-I hear my dad,
Rich-black coal covering his scull
Now it has lost its dark quality,
How many years have passed,
Washed away with visions of Zion?
As day progresses so does my symphony,
I sing praises to David, recite poetry of Solomon,
I wrap the holy parchment with my left hand,
Weaker helps stronger,
The American Dream reenacted?
Or the timeless dream of a nation recreated?
My father’s whiteness every time I sin,
I see the pain in his still-black eyes,
Every muscle tenses,
Waiting for my childhood to withdraw,
“I’m a man”, I tell him,
But he’s far away, walking streets of gold,
While I steal his destiny, with one glance of Jerusalem.