The Eleventh Trial
Not only Abraham climbs the hill,
but Sarah waits in silence,
her heart trembling at the edge of knowing.
The Satan whispers the story,
and her breath breaks into shards of sound—
a teru’ah that shatters heaven’s stillness.
These cries, carried by angels,
become the hollow voice of the ram’s horn.
Not Abraham’s knife,
but Sarah’s sobs
etch eternity into covenant.
Not only Abraham climbs the hill,
but Sarah waits in silence,
her heart trembling at the edge of feeling.
The Satan whispers the story,
and her breath breaks into shards of sound—
a teru’ah that shatters heaven’s stillness.
These cries, carried by angels,
become the hollow voice of the ram’s horn.
Not Abraham’s triumphant knife,
but Sarah’s sobs “treuah”
etch eternity into covenant.
On Rosh Hashanah we lift the shofar,
its cry recalling her broken breath.
And the Holy One,
hearing again that mother’s wail,
finally,
rises from the Throne of Judgment
to sit upon the Throne of Mercy.
