On the eve of your Brit
by joanne jagoda
On the eve of your Brit,
impatient drivers sound their horns
sirens blare in the distance
we are cocooned on the balcony
caressed by the warm breath of Jerusalem twilight
I hold you in my arms, savoring this moment
as you hover on the threshold of entering our covenant
On the eve of your Brit,
I am the mothers on the seventh night
suckling their babes from breasts overflowing
hearts filled with bittersweet emotions
hesitant, but willing,
reluctant, but eager,
to fulfill this most sacred obligation
On the eve of your Brit,
I am Sarah
fretting when her husband,
zealous to fulfill the tests of faith
takes her sweet son, her only son
on the early morning sojourn
no tinkle of laughter wells inside her today
On the eve of your Brit,
I am Yocheved
hiding in the reeds
waiting for Pharaoh’s daughter
to find the woven basket in the bulrushes,
to save her precious son
and claim him for herself
On the eve of your Brit,
I am the mother weeping inconsolably
for her son killed by a sniper
on the border of Lebanon
I ache for the mothers who will send
their boys off tomorrow
I pray that your mother will never shed bitter tears for you
On the eve of your Brit,
I, your American grandmother,
will carry you on the embroidered pillow
to be passed through loving arms
to receive your name, and take your place
an inviolable link in the chain of generations
that has held fast throughout our history
But if I could hold you forever in my arms
I would protect you
from the travails you will face
with the lion strength of my love
just as I cradle you tonight
on this balcony
on the eve of your Brit
Joanne Jagoda began a long-postponed journey into the world of creative writing after retiring in 2009 from years of working in the Jewish community. Her poetry, short stories and nonfiction have been published online and in various print anthologies. Jagoda lives in Oakland and visits her three grandchildren in Jerusalem every year.