an old writer and his words

  • HOW

    How are we to deal with a God whose angel kills the first bornwhose only sin was to be born Egyptian who causes the sea to wash over an armydoing the bidding of a despot orfacing death at his hands who turns a city into saltfor the sins of the many but not all who…

    Lou Faber

  • SABBATH

    She could not understand whyanyone, really, would willinglygive up their Saturday morningto sit inside and recite prayershalf in a language that neitherthey nor most of the congregationspoke, and when I said some knewthe translations by heart, she added“then why not recite those.”She had a point, I knew, but wouldI easily concede, as if thatwould make…

    Lou Faber

  • RECONSTRUCTIONS

    Night descended on herlike an elevator untethered,her memories in freefall into darkness.She could not forget the storiesthe elder ones quietly told,the numbers always clothed over,their smiles forced or freely given,depending on the directionof the ever-present winds of emotion.She knew she was a prisoner of her past,her inheritance both joys and horrorsinterwoven into the fabric of…

    Lou Faber

  • TO A FATHER, NEVER KNOWN

    You were to be my prophetand you played Jonah one morningby clutching your chest at the sinkand dropping to the floor, dead.You left me to wanderthrough Ninevah, a beggartwice robbed of originground pulled from beneath my feet.Why did you flee your taskthe one for which you were anointed.Couldn’t you see our home laid ruinconsumed by…

    Lou Faber

  • NO BIALIS

    It shouldn’t be all that hardreally, it should be almostsecond nature, after allI grew up Jewish, and keptto it until I was past fortyand I still have half my genesthat should remember for me.But here I am, sweating bulletsfollowing arcane directionsand hoping for a decent outcome.You wouldn’t think thatmaking bagels would beall that difficult, but…

    Lou Faber

  • LIVE ON GOLIATH

    It wasn’t easy being a fat kid,chubby my parents liked to call it,but we both know I was fat.And both Jewish and shortfor good measure, and I wasn’tphysically adept at any sport,so, yes, I was an easy targetand several kids couldn’tpass that opportunity by.But I imagined I was Davidand all of the Goliaths fellat my…

    Lou Faber

  • FAMILY

    Of the few remaining cousins, nowas old as I, a number we do not mentionor want to believe that he was her onlylover, as though she was the young girlwho left Charleston for Washington, D.C.They cite, as justifying empirical evidence,that she never married, alwaysthe beloved aunt, nothing more allowed.My later discovered existencelaid waste to their…

    Lou Faber

  • HORSING AROUND

    At some point in time I imaginemy mother’s family must’ve hadhorses, or perhaps the ones they sawwere the horses of the locals,an aide when you are conductinga pogram, chasing familiesfrom their homes, into a flight to freedom.Perhaps my family were farmersor merchants in Lithuania, thoughprobably not owning a drugstoreas their children did in CharlstonWest Virginia,…

    Lou Faber

  • EVER FAITHFUL

    We are, after all, merely humanso we are fraught with questionsand lacking answers, willingto take things on faith on occasion. Take God, for example, althoughsome say He is uniquely exemplary,we want to know if God is a he,a she, or to cover all our bases, a they. And when we ask for a sign weoften…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WEIGHT OF MOURNING

    The weight of mourning defies precise measurement,and all of the rules of mathematics fail in an attempt.Grief rejects being placed on scales, there is nevera moment of pure equilibrium, only a teeteringthat always threatens to bring it all down in a heap.A million who are nameless and faceless is an agonyand yet eighty thousand with…

    Lou Faber