Isaiah 61

I knew your father.

He was a good man,

Joseph the carpenter.

I was there,

in his home,

the night he died.

I listened to your mother weep

softly.

I’ve heard them tell

of the things you’ve done,

the words

you’ve spoken in prophecy.

I placed the Tora in your hands

when you stepped forth.

You read the words

of the holy scriptures,

the prophet Isaiah,

a man longing for the messiah.

You staked a claim,

The words of the prophet are fulfilled,

but you are a carpenter’s son,

not the leader

we are promised.

They call you blasphemer

because of the proclamation you’ve made.

They raise fists and stones in the air

and unscathed you walk through their midst.

And I fear

that if the stories of you are true

you have not come for the pious children of Israel

but for those we,

the righteous,

consider retched.

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