(An alternative reading for Acharei Mot/Kedoshim)
What do you sacrifice
to stand in this
holy place?
Do you wear your sins
like fine linen
and gilded shame?
Does your skin
glisten with water and oil
and the scent of blood?
What do you offer
to stand here
in this holy place,
whose walls are
fitted with mirrors
of silvered glass, and
edged in guilt and
hope?
They reflect
and refract to
infinity,
a bountiful gift of
infinite Glory.
Their smoothed surfaces
of infinite hardness
show every crack
and broken sliver
when the light
shines upon them, that
disappear in the shadows
and dark.
Every crack is holy
here in this holy place
where you stand:
a sacrifice,
an offering,
found in the corners
and littering the
earth with their bounty.
Do you stumble?
Do you love?
Place your doubt
here on the altar,
and light the fire
to burn with incense
and your fear,
and stand
here in this holy place
of cracks and
reflected Infinity,
a prayer of grace
upon your lips.
I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. I n the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy. If nothing else, I've learned to make a mean cup of coffee.
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