The Four Children

The Four Children are coming. It used to bother me that it was four sons. What about the daughters?

Now it bothers me that I have no children.  I’d instruct my children if I had them.

Wicked, wise, simple, unable to ask or otherwise.

I’d tell them about the Exodus.

I’d tell them how I called out to God to stop the punishment. How I saw signs and wonders.

I thought the plagues were for the Egyptians, but it seemed I experienced a few too.

It’s not the same, I know. I am not a slave.

I am the four children. All of them in me.

I am angry and distanced one moment,

then gracious and curious,

then wondering what is happening,

then just silent.

I need to get back to preparing for the Seder

and make instructions for myself.


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