Moses at one hundred and twenty-one years
feels he can no longer come and go, and so
he will stay while everyone else goes.
Me at one hundred and twenty-one years
feels like I should have stopped coming and
going for at least fifty of them.
Moses at one hundred and twenty-one years
still manages to jot down an entire Torah
for safekeeping.
Me at one hundred and twenty-one years
will spend my entire last day dotting a single “i”.
Moses at one hundred and twenty-one years
commingles with the very presence of the Holy
One, blessed be (S)He.
Me at one hundred and twenty-one years
still claiming intellectual disbelief, but plea for
one more day when no one’s looking.
Moses at one hundred and twenty-one years
composes an entire song meant to guide a nation
for generations after his bones are known.
Me at one hundred and twenty-one years
still resting on the laurels of that one good thing
I did when I was thirty-five.
Moses at one hundred and twenty-one years
issues commands like a governor in his prime.
Me at one hundred and twenty-one years
knows better than to tell anyone what to do.
Moses at one hundred twenty-one years
has had a pretty good run and doesn’t plan on
slowing down. Just stopping.
Me at one hundred and twenty-one years
pleading, don’t hide Your face from me. Just show
me a pillar of smoke. I’ll believe.