the best and the worst job I ever had (poem)

the best and the worst job I ever had

It was the first week of the

first Gulf War

and we were headed to the Jewish Community Center

in Berkeley.

When we arrived it was my job to patrol

the outside gate

and wait for

crazy men with bad intentions

who might want to open up

on the synagogue

with an AK-47

or

with a load of explosives strapped to

their chests

or inside their cars.

My job was to make sure

they didn’t get through the front gate.

The hours passed

as the rabbi’s continued

their lessons

in peace.

Baruch atah Adonai, Elohaynu, melech ha-olam, she-asah neeseem

la-avotaynu ba-yameem ha-heim ba-z'man ha-zeh.

(Blessed are you, Lord, our God, king of the universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days at this time.)

I wondered what my mother

and father back in Indiana would

think of their son now,

staring straight ahead

wondering what

the next moment would bring.

For two weeks I patrolled outside

the synagogue

without incident.

The same time in Israel,

suicide bombers

killed 6 and wounded 17.

I prayed for a return to the peace

of the cornfields. I was alive,

and it was time to go home.