Yehuda: A Poem
"That land there", he points,
"That was Jesse's."
We look and I consider
the bramble imprisoned by razor wire
and the story:
a day of hard words over cotton prices
followed by a night
filled with the sound of slaughtered pigs
and my great grandfather
fleeing for his life to the big city
My Jewish family would call this a pogrom;
my Black one--just business as usual--
Black folk having their land stolen.
"They say that we could get that land back," my elder says.
The words hang in the air, an unanswered question
and in my mother's family tree
Jesse follows Jesse with ne'er a David in sight.
I'll tell you when the Messiah has come.
When Jesse's David pastures his horse again
in that field
Marian Moore is a member of Congregation Temple Sinai of New Orleans, LA. Her poetry has been published in Drumvoices, The Louisiana Review, and Bridges.