Call and Response: a poem for the shofar high Holy days,

Do not text me;
I will not notice,
And may ignore it anyway.
How can one hundred and forty of
anything 
compel me to answer,
unless I merely seek distraction
and not return?

Do not leave a message
that I will not listen to.
I will let the sounds wash over
me in my inattentive attention,
while I wait for the next thing
to move me to the next thing,
so that I can wait for something
to move me again.

Do not call or cry out,
or speak the words to me
that You spoke to them--
to Abraham who held a knife,
Or his son who let him.
I will not answer.
I will not hear
from the depths of this wiilderness
that is choked with the bits and bytes
and slings and arrows
of my days.

I will answer
the sound of the shofar
that stayed the hand
that meant to slaughter;
That rang out
and tumbled the walls
that surrounded my heart;
That sang in aching
and awesome mystery
to announce the presence of God.
I will hear in this wilderness,
I will hear in my longing,
and I will turn and turn again
and listen.

I will hear the shofar's call
and I will answer.