Passover

Religious poetry

With the door latched 

And windows shut tight 

The glow of the night torch 

Casting an orange halo 

In the cool, light mist 

The dark vapor creeps 

Through the heavy silence 

Pierced with the screams 

Of anguished mothers 

In houses enveloped with tears 

The dark vapor still glides 

Uncaring through the streets 

The first-borns 

First no longer 

With staff in hand 

And sandals on feet 

Unleavened bread and bitter herbs 

With the slaughtered lamb 

Its blood on the door frames 

A sign to keep this Plague at bay 

Passed over from this death sentence