If I But Go

There are places of wonder
and glory
and kindness
and sin,
an infinity of not-here
places.
I wonder if I will
ever see them
all.

But you know, there are
bills to pay
and Things
I must see to.
And then there's the
cleaning
and the fixing
and the doing
and the talking
and the bills
that crop up
on every list I make -
a never-ending List,
an infinite iteration of
letters
and numbers
of owing and being
owed.
It is All a
never-ending
kaleidoscope of
doing,
this life thing
that I do.

But
there are places of wonder,
even so.

I should go;
just
Go,
because I wonder,
and I can sip at
glory
and sin
both.
And I could wander
forever.

But there is still
owing, And this
life thing
that keeps me tied to
Here.

Even so,
I feel this urge to go,
and hear this voice
that urges me, Tells me to
Go;
to pack up and cut
the ties that bind
and comfort
and are so
familiar
they feel like
love. But
there have been
certain Promises
of wonder and
glory
and kindness
and sin,
if i but cut
if i just
Go
and go and go
farther
further
deeper in
higher up
to find
my
self
my
God
my
greatness.
if I but
Go
and go
until I am Finally,
blessedly

There.

Kaddish D'rabanan: Tied to the Up

For my teachers

You wove a thread of words -
a hundred,
a thousand,
an infinity of words,
all twisted and
twined.
One thread
and then another
and yet another,
until there were
a hundred,
a thousand,
an impossible -
improbable -
infinity of threads
that you wove into
a rope
that twisted and
twined
and climbed
into the Up
and the All
and the Everything.
It bound me
to the here
and the sky
and the You.
A breath.
A word.
A thread.
A rope.
Tied and twisted
and leading me home.

Morning Prayers

In the morning
I write my prayers
on the sky
so that when I look up
I can see
Blessings.
And when they have
danced
Long enough
they fall,
To tangle in the trees
until every leaf -
Of greengold and
scarlet
and brittle brown -
they dance, too,
clinging in delicate
grace
for a heartbeat
moment
before drifting again
to tangle at my feet
and collect in my
pockets.

The Space Between

In the beginning
there were no
names.
there was nothing
to outline the
edges
no form
no shape.
No names.

So there were no
words
To separate
the days
From the colors
From the sharp from the
sweet from
the holy from the
rest.

So maybe it was
every color
and all time
and sharply sweet
or sweetly sharp,
and holy holy holy
never
and forever.

But there were no
names
for it.
and no edges
no space
between is and
was
until God spoke.

And the words
flew forth
and came to be
and created the is
and the was
and separated
the whole
in eager
urgent
graceful
breaking.

And in the breaking
in the sudden and
sweet
edges
that outlined
the all and the
everything
And the spaces
between

Holy.

Forever Song - Psalm 145

Forever is a long time,
but I will try
to sing
an endless song.

I will sing
of greatness
and glory,
     of pain
     and love.
And praise will rise
like heat
in my body.

I will live in Your
forever house,
and sing You
a forever song
     a psalm
     of mercy
     and stumbling
     grace.

I will feast
at Your table.
and recount Your
greatness,
     and I will find joy
     Rising,
     an endless hosanna
an eternal psalm.

Forever is a long time
but I will sing
to You
a forever song

#BlogElul 29 (#Tishrei 9-10) - Return

I like the symmetry of return.

I like the idea that, no matter how linear we think we are, or time is, or God is, we tend to find a way back. As I've written before, even God recognizes this: why else create t'shuvah before ever creating the Heavens and the Earth?

Those rabbis, diving into text that is written in and between all the magnificent letters of the Torah! At least, that's how I see midrash. Today. Tomorrow? Perhaps they are just stories, made up to fill in the holes, or the blanks that God left. Or maybe Moshe left blank spots - too weary having to carve a second set after that little incident with the Golden Calf, carving in one night what God had taken 40 days to do the first time around. Or just maybe, it's all Torah.

Torah. Even that isn't linear - we begin at the beginning, but there is no end. Again and again, just when we think it's over - the story is played out, the cast has all gone home - we begin again. I love when we unroll the whole thing - we see the whole of the story, from end to end to end: parchment and ink. All the words. All the mitzvot. All the awe and fear and trembling and demands that we be holy, that we care for one another, that we love, in between the anger and pettiness and war.

Unrolled, we wrap it, this sacred, holy, ancient, living thing - we wrap it around our children, we hold it up, to study, to read, to chant, to learn and teach.

We return, again and again to this, the beginning, the middle, the end. It encircles us all, draws us in, holds us dearly.

I stand here today, returned to this place, and offer this poem, that I wrote last year, to begin the journey to return. As I said, I like symmetry. I offer this, as my prayer, that we make this journey together, and that we return, again and again, to find wonder and love and God and each other.

The Edge of Everything

We gathered,

all of us,

having walked this long road

Before.

There is so much I don't

remember of it:

Cold

and dust

and heat-cracked pavement.

And noise!

God, the noise--

It could tear you apart

and get inside your head

and all you want

is just a little piece of

Quiet,

A chance to

Breathe

without feeling like

Everything--

your hope

your fear

your love

and

doubt--

All of it,

All of you

was caught

somewhere in your chest,

or maybe your throat,

And all you want is just one small

Breath

to be easy

and quiet.

So we gathered

there,

Here

at the edge,

the very edge of

Everything;

Stopped in our noise

and our doubt

and fear.

Stopped

at the edge

of love

and hunger:

At the edge of want,

to catch the light

of a thousand suns

and ten thousand moons

and absolute

Stillness.

Glinting of silver

and an infinity of

Blue,

Subtle variations

of color

and depth,

Caught

in the  reflection of

Sky.

Caught,

all along the edges,

with light.

We gathered here,

Together,

at the edge,

bathed in

silence

and bending light,

weary and

ready, 

to leap. 

To dive into that pool

filled to overflowing

with love

and doubt

and hunger 

and hope,

that waiting pool of 

Self.

There, 

And filled now with sudden, shivery

Stillness,

and stars that reel

in mirrored waters.

And so I leap

With the light of

Heaven,

Of earth and sky,

Reflecting

all my doubt

my love

and longing.

And I remember

A road of dust and

Heat-cracked pavement

And I gather in the noise

And light

And breath-stopping fear,

Gather them in, to

Release them

In a single

Graceful sweep:

There is beauty in my pain.

There is more in

Letting go.

And so I breathe:

I am returned

To the edge of my

Beginning.

May your new year be sweet, and may you be sealed in the Book of Life for a year of joy.