Just how much of our lives can we claim
As our own amidst the histories named,
Which people across space and time
Bear witness to the things
That happen to us and those we love
From previous generations and the Lord above?

Nature and events,
The events of nature
And the nature of men,
Chances given perhaps
From the fickle fates
That often emerge from the abyss
Too early and/or late

Too painful for the wait,
The weight of the questions
Of survivor’s guilt,
A survey — a census —
Of the living and the dead

And God at the helm
Going full speed ahead.

Do we deserve our tragedies,
Nigh blessings,
Or circumstances, our decisions,
Of eons in passing?

Are poverty and prejudice,
Hatred and malevolence,
Inequality and want of money
— violence —
Here to sanctify our sufferings
As repentance, atonement, offerings?

Where is there room for hope,
For a hospitable future
For promises and mercy,
For liberation and justice,
For redemption and even joy,

When the majority of
Existence — existentialism —
Is drudgery — unhappiness —,
The endless toiling on parched earth,
Slavery to actions and words:

The World and your niche in it

Built by laborers in fields, — scribes —
On construction and agriculture, — poets of the plow —
Engineering marvels — meant for the past as well as now?

Just how much of human life
Is empty space — a vacuum —
Originally rehashed,
Narrated cliches — identity strife —

There is nothing new under the sun: Creation’s Fire!

— Mediocrity; longing; unrequited love, dire ire,
Unfinished work; debts impossible to repay —

Sin Hell Anger Defiled
Rage Debauchery Lust Repetition
Entrapment A cycle So vile
Self-destruction Stay a while
Cursing Doubt No peace without
Year’s end Denial No smile

Just teeth suckling from the Teats of Truth:

That the more intensely you desire

To erase the failures and follies of youth,

You combat the immutable reality of the Universe
To move forward,
That all the transgressions amass without reverse
— from the adverse to the perverse —

The sad conclusion that culminates
With the sickening observations
That History is cyclical as well as biblical,
Even if it is at times unacceptable,

And that if any of the good things and tragedies
And plagues and atrocities of the past
— However unjustifiable —
Had not unfolded in the manner and order

In which they had taken place,

That there might not still be a habitable planet
Nor a human race;
Neither our innovations nor reconciliations:

Neither a “you” nor an “I”

— Just an eye for an eye:
A tooth for a tooth —

And the fact unmistakable
That we and everything else
Are beyond special —

That knowing our history and all
That could have come to pass
And if our species will last —

Even when we are overwhelmed with problems
And there seems like no reason to be grateful

We are still fortunate to be human
Because life itself is a miracle!

Published by Andrew Blitman

Andrew Blitman is a poet and artist who is also the webmaster of this blog. He is the published author of 13 books, including "Birthright 2012: A Voyage into the Heart and Soul of Israel" and the "Wild Writers" Series. He can be reached at this e-mail address: andrew.blitman@gmail.com View all posts by Andrew Blitman