an old writer and his words

  • A LESSON TO TEACH

    This is what I would tell my sons:“You came from an ancient people,a heritage of poetsand tailors, or thievesand blasphemers,of callous menand slaughtered children.I would give you these books,written by God, some have said,although I am doubtfulbut driven by Erato, without doubt.” This is what I would tell my sons:“I didn’t go to war —there were so many…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE TENTH PLAGUE

    Mark your doorpost with the bloodof the lamb for this may be the nightwhen God’s emissary arrives for the killingof the first born. Will he be a night birdhalf raven, half vulture or an aged manconcealing his weapon in shabby robes. Mark your doorpost and check itoften for if your neighbor wipesthe blood away, you…

    Lou Faber

  • FINDING PEACE

    It wasn’t lost on me, mother, that this yearon the anniversary of death, you had been goneeighteen years, Chai in your beloved Hebrew,a lifetime for me, having never met yousave in the half of my genes you implantedin me when I was implanted in you. As you aged, alone, did you wonder whatbecame of the…

    Lou Faber

  • AND UNDER THIS ROCK

    There is one thing that noneof the books on discoveringwho you are when you areadopted bother to tell you. If they did, it wouldn’t changeanything, but it is a burdenyou assumed you’d easily bearthat grows heavy with time. What they don’t warn you isthat you will discover yourself,your heritage that was deniedto you for one…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHTLY PRAYERS

    My mother always told me to saymy prayers before bed, which was oddgiven that she never prayed, and didn’tas far as we could tell, believe in a deity. I knew, as my Rabbi taught, that you do notseek something for yourself in prayer,and world peace and harmony did notseem on the horizon despite my entreaties.…

    Lou Faber

  • Q.E.?

    Religion, he said, is inherently illogicaland the older the religion, the more illogicalit becomes, accreting absurdity over time.A corollary of this proposition is thatthe more organized a religion claims to be,the more its spirituality is buried underrules and regulations which only illustratethe principal proposition set forth above.Humans create religion not to explainthe unexplainable but to…

    Lou Faber

  • TREPIDATION

    I approach it slowly, overcomeby fear and desire, warned to stepcarefully over the uneven earththat on this hillside haven set behindthe rusting wrought iron fence , itsmaster lock dangling askew, peersout through the trees to the Kanawha riverflowing unknowingly through the valley. The stone is set in line with the others,neatly incised, a name, Englishand…

    Lou Faber

  • UNCLE

    My uncle writes his journalin cramped Yiddish, Englishwill not do, it lacks the wordshe says, to describe his world. He describes the flavorof the capon left to stewon the stove, the sweet tasteof carrots and prunes. He carefully notes the thumbof the butcher sliding ontothe back of the scale, applyingjust a dollar of pressure. He…

    Lou Faber

  • SABBATH

    Fourth floor, Antwerp Hilton, night encasing the Schelde, ragout of boar and claret slowly regurgitating, I pause ancient words, stutteringly said, hand on my head a shoddy cover two parts of eight fully remembered one section only in part, turning East or a best guess. I ask nothing, or perhaps too much it is hard…

    Lou Faber

  • THE RABBI

    The old man peers at the yellowing book then places it on the arm of the chair. He gives the walker a sad, angry look, and still struggling, looks up in mocking prayer. Clutching the book, he limps to the table and sinks onto the chair, risking a fall that could reshatter his hip. Unable…

    Lou Faber