Passover Publications & Resources
the sirens chased us into a house at the end of the village. “Surely they are coming back,” you said. No,
the Egyptians were no longer a problem. We
paused to breathe, to plan our escape. Outside
the window the open field and beyond that the forest and the gold coast. We
sat underneath the window. Siren
-- ambulance or fire? Pharaoh
does not disclose himself with sirens, we held hands tighter. Pharaoh? No,
a reckless taxi full of fools, the owner of a radio station in a large midwestern city the mayor who had his hand in the preacher’s pocket the owner of the nursing home who signed his checks with a gold
pen they lunched on the skyline while we all burned in the street. We decided to stay right there
and be artfully defiant. James
Stone Goodman 
Last
Stand of the Resistance