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An excerpt from Judy Belsky's "What We Flee With" appears in vol. 7 no. 2 of The Deronda Review. Below is the poem in its entirety.
What We Flee With
at the Passover Seder I fall asleep I dream I am a small child fleeing Spain
I we flee at night we board a ship my father worries about old Lateen sails and worn clinker-built hulls are they sea worthy? was he duped?
there are so many people on board I am afraid we will sink afraid they will overtake us afraid they will take Father afraid they will torture him he has already told us if he is caught we are never never to bow down to idols I rehearse refusal even under a whip
the ship sails despite rotten hulls God navigates He gently tacks the old triangular sail against the current He skims us past the Spanish Armada who have orders to shoot
stars look down and speak in a language we have not yet learned
II on the ship my father studies the Abarbanel after he flees Portugal for Spain Spain for Naples Naples for Corfu and Venice he will write Passover Offering a commentary on the Haggaddah father lays its maps over our voyage he reads through three maps one bleeds through the other Egypt Spain Redemption
my mother gathers all the small children to Ship School there are few books it is a singing school where there are no dungeons where we are free to be ourselves we can scream Adon Olam if we want to I want to
sound refracted by water radiates faster than on land sound rays rush forward form an acoustic cloud if someone speaks on deck his conversation can carry miles away
in Granada, a priest eats his breakfast in the garden he sighs enjoying the silence nothing about his job is silent then he hears it is he hallucinating? Jewish children sing Adon Olam he has kidnapped hundreds of Jewish children for the Church but these singing children are not in monasteries they are free to sing to their God
he begins to question his calling he stifles doubt a crisis of faith would demand energy the plum jam excels today
on ship I dream that my family flees to the harbor enemy priests grab the hem of my cloak I escape I run faster than I think I can I run to the beat I will not bow down I will not
always I feel someone behind me
III
what people flee with a widow runs to the cemetery she lays parchment over her husband’s headstone she rubs chalk over it to preserve a ghost image she cannot carry both her shrouds and her Messiah dress heavily trimmed in gold she chooses her Messiah dress
what people flee with the last baking of Sabbath bread when it is too hard to eat my mother breaks the heel and flings it up to a gull he swoops down to catch it and flies higher and still higher rising on the blessing in the dough
as we eat some pumpkin seeds roll off the table onto the deck seabirds pick them up who knows how far a seed will travel before a bird drops one from its beak? in which latitude will people gather to discuss an exotic plant?
what people flee with one man takes the mezuzah from the main entrance to his house handed down five generations a protection against forced conversion the consensus regarding the removal of the mezuzah: he may take it no Jew will inhabit the abandoned house
what people flee with unfinished manuscripts rolled tight in stone jars a jug of wine from a baby’s naming saved for her wedding
what people flee with Shechita knives Challah knives Brit Milah knives an empty Spice Box still scented with cloves
what people flee with a bridal gown a new bride repairs it for her sisters she mends small rips and replaces missing seed pearls that bounced off when she danced with her mother
what people flee with a map of Holy sites in Israel couched in gold a compass that reads East folding candlesticks for Sabbath to be lit wherever we find ourselves a child’s first aleph bet reader a remedy for healing wounds with honey
IV what people flee with a man risks his life twice he conceals a Sefer Torah in his wine cellar then when they flee he winds it around and around himself his wife fastens a belt and a cloak made of two cloaks sewn together
after midnight he dances alone on deck vayehi binsoa ha-aron/and it was when the ark travels Let your enemies be scattered Arise God to your dwelling place You and the Ark of your might
tonight he is the ark
what people flee with a papercut of Shiviti I place God before me always last hung in the Succah the ship is a Succah the stars our temporary shelter translucent God’s protection shines through
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