Or (For Isaac)

And he took his father to the flame and his father said I am not a goat And the boy said   no    you are not a goat And the father said     where are the goats And the boy said    you are a goat today or you will be a goat The father thought about hybrid beasts and said nothing He looked with love at the strange child he created He thought about how hard it had been to keep the boy alive And when the boy led him down the death path he kept thinking I should be in charge But I am tired and I can’t do anything to gain control I am crinkled, worn-out, sick of seeing Things get destroyed in my name Do I mind that I might be turned into someone else’s burden? Also, I admire my son’s determination Someone, the voice of X, told him to take me to the flame Someone serious, a credible character, Told him to take me to the flame It would have been perfectly reasonable to resist To say look, son, this is not the kind of thing you should do to your father But I was tired and the child was persiste

Or (For Isaac)

And he took his father to the flame and his father said
I am not a goat
And the boy said   no    you are not a goat
And the father said     where are the goats
And the boy said    you are a goat today or you will be a goat
The father thought about hybrid beasts and said nothing
He looked with love at the strange child he created
He thought about how hard it had been to keep the boy alive
And when the boy led him down the death path he kept thinking
I should be in charge
But I am tired and I can’t do anything to gain control
I am crinkled, worn-out, sick of seeing
Things get destroyed in my name
Do I mind that I might be turned into someone else’s burden?
Also, I admire my son’s determination
Someone, the voice of X, told him to take me to the flame
Someone serious, a credible character,
Told him to take me to the flame
It would have been perfectly reasonable to resist
To say look, son, this is not the kind of thing you should do to your father
But I was tired and the child was persistent and I wondered
How long will this thing go on?
It’s true, I am old now
I don’t actually want to live that much longer
But there are a few more things I have to do
Is it presumptuous to say there is a future that depends on me?
The Earth has its own ideas
The sea has other ideas
And the sky has ideas
There are just a few bodies falling from the sky today
I think I recognize some of them
They are my children and one of them whispers to me
This is not the right way to live
And to live in the wrong way is to die in the wrong way
Who said that and what did they mean?
Before he takes me to the flame I tell my son
There is nothing left to do here on Earth
I welcome the pain and I welcome my son’s audacity
I admire his fingers as they grip my shirtsleeve
In those fingers I feel sadness, tenacity, anger, hope
I feel the violence of the centuries filling up in his blood
I know how lonely it is in his body
The expectations of our people are extraordinary


This poem appears in the February 2025 print edition.

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