By Julia Stein, Special to JTNews
I swept the house clean through nine plagues,
swept when Moses turned the river into blood,
swatted at frogs all day in the Egyptians’ kitchen,
chased frogs in the bedrooms, whacked at them
on the beds, jumped after frogs in the kitchen. Next
I cleaned off lice from the heads of the Egyptians.
When my brother sent flies, the Egyptians had me
stand over their meals and beds swatting at flies.
After the Lord killed their cows, we laughed
even as we smelled that horrible stench.
Then I spent hours wrapping up the boils
all over the Egyptians’ skin rejoicing.
The Egyptians made us women go into the fields,
round up their cattle, drive them into barns,
lock the doors against the pounding hail.
The day the locusts devoured the plants
I swept my home for house and swept three days that
the Egyptians sat in darkness, for only we had light.
Before the tenth plague I swept once more,
then roasted lamb and cut up bitter herbs we ate
remembering four hundred years of slavery
that terrible night the Angel of Death screeched
and screamed as he flew over our houses
on his bloody way to kill the Egyptians’ sons.
We were leaving so I baked my bread unleavened,
packed clay crockery, black pots onto a rickety cart.
I wanted to smash the pyramids.
We’d built them well. They’d last. A pity.
At the Red Sea, after we climbed onto the land and
saw Pharaoh lead his chariots into a gap
riding between two huge cliffs of water when
mountains of water crashed down on them,
I called the women who came with cymbals and drums,
“Come dance now for we are flying into freedom.”
Taken from A Poet’s Haggadah, a compendium of poetry all related to Passover, written by 36 writers and edited by Rick Lupert. Order the haggadah online at www.poetseder.com.