RIFKAH GOLDBERG

MEETING THE CHILDREN A quarter of a century ago It was meeting the parents Now totally out of the blue It is meeting the children Days crawl by absentmindedly From one scenario to another Nights tossed to and fro Filled with possible nightmares "Why are you rushing again?" My older son angrily accuses "I don't want another mother" Cautions his younger child What sort of home do I envision Spanning the entire religious spectrum? Is unison across two parts of the city The ideal he has in mind? My children eye the usurper with suspicion His children fashion me into a religious fanatic We both have to look up to plead With this incongruous towering brood "Mummy what does he do? Who can make a living as a writer?" "Daddy do you really want a wife Obsessed with painting decrepit chairs?" Will we ever make the grade As second-hand home-makers? Will dubious permission be granted us To combine our grandchildren in peace? Can our desperate aging love Create a patchwork family A padded multi-faceted quilt Repairing broken dreams? May 2001