Splintered pieces of broken idols
And shattered gods litter the floor
At your feet.
The axe, its handle still damp
From your sweaty palms,
Rests in unliving hands.
Your father’s eyes look on
In confused horror and fear.
Your last question
Remains unanswered.

November 2005

Based on the fairly well known midrash from the Talmud  (Genesis Rabbah 38.13), which you can read here.