I wonder about the
infinity of light
that shattered
in a single Breath -
and the dust of Adam
that scattered, a
sweeping whirlwind of
limitless everywhere upon
the earth, and the stars
that Abraham counted -
numberless,
and distant,
and cold fire.
We counted
time by moonlight
and threads of
blue -
Exquisitely finite
and eternal,
a holy cadence
of one
plus one
plus one again
a never-ending measure
of binding and grace.
So I wonder,
with all the counting
of all the endlessness
of stars and dust
and light
and time
and one
plus one
plus One -
what happens when
six million -
when twelve million -
when a thousand -
when a single one
disappears from
infinity
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.
Friday, January 25, 2019
Sunday, January 6, 2019
She Thought of Painting
She thought of painting
the morning into being,
of darkness shot with light,
a riot of royal hued color
and a rippling shimmer
on leaves of heartbreak gold.
She wondered how to paint
the sound of birdsong,
or the scent of coffee
and wood smoke.
She thought of painting
the glory of the day
and the joy of it,
the sheer exaltation of it.
She let her thoughts drift,
like petals on water,
and she stilled
while the sun warmed her.
For Julie
With love
the morning into being,
of darkness shot with light,
a riot of royal hued color
and a rippling shimmer
on leaves of heartbreak gold.
She wondered how to paint
the sound of birdsong,
or the scent of coffee
and wood smoke.
She thought of painting
the glory of the day
and the joy of it,
the sheer exaltation of it.
She let her thoughts drift,
like petals on water,
and she stilled
while the sun warmed her.
For Julie
With love
Thursday, January 3, 2019
How Shall I Know You: a poem for parashat Vaera
How shall I know
that you are God,
my Lord and Master,
Judgment in your right hand
And mercy on your lips?
How shall I know
that I am home,
that I will be gathered,
be beloved,
be returned?
Will I know You by my enemies,
by their decimation and ruin?
Is that Your glory, Lord,
Your secret name?
Are You the eternal Lord of Hosts,
battle-ready, all iron and stone -
My Rock,
My Redeemer -
Is there yet no give in You?
How shall I know You, God?
What shall I call You?
How will I know I am home?
Based, with a twist, on Ezekiel 28:25 - 29:10, the haftara for parashat Vaera
that you are God,
my Lord and Master,
Judgment in your right hand
And mercy on your lips?
How shall I know
that I am home,
that I will be gathered,
be beloved,
be returned?
Will I know You by my enemies,
by their decimation and ruin?
Is that Your glory, Lord,
Your secret name?
Are You the eternal Lord of Hosts,
battle-ready, all iron and stone -
My Rock,
My Redeemer -
Is there yet no give in You?
How shall I know You, God?
What shall I call You?
How will I know I am home?
Based, with a twist, on Ezekiel 28:25 - 29:10, the haftara for parashat Vaera
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