For Seven Days the Sky Rots

About the poem: this poem was an assignment about King David during a Jewish writer's retreat in Washington, D.C.

 

For Seven Days the Sky Rots

 

"O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!

Would I had died instead of you,  O Absalom..."       

         2 Samuel 18:33 King James Version

 

 

As the hinges of the door screech-open

a gravely sound from my breast bone, 

Absalom, Absalom, my beloved son.

 

Knots of a mourner embed within my

soul. I hold the edge of my fresh torn

garment, release my sobs into the earth

 

nod pensively till predawn light. Your

death ripped my mortality. No prayers

to calm the ache but praise and thanks

 

to Elohim until death I’ll shiver to your

name, my world was yours, all yours

all is in vain without you. Absalom!