Ready

There is a rising expectancy

A hold-your-breath

gathering in,

 at the edge

that drops away

ten thousand feet

and ten thousand more.

A moment--

just that one,

that separates you from

everything else.

You hold yourself so

still,

so poised.

There's a heartbeat's difference

between waiting

and ready,

a heartbeat,

a moment,

the distance between

breaths,

You have walked the ten thousand steps,

and ten thousand more,

an eternity of steps

to cross that narrow distance,

to stand in hushed--

in rising

expectancy.

To leap into that moment,

to complete that breath,

to bridge the distance

between waiting

and God.

To stand

in grace,

in quiet stillness,

in breathless wonder,

on the other side of waiting.

And you gather in those tethers

that have shackled you

You gather them

and let them fall,

cracked and dusty and rusted through.

A breath.

A heartbeat.

A moment that stretches into

the rest of forever

(and then some)

And then

you leap.

Ready.

Harder Than Hard Ever Was

The floor was hard.
Never had there ever been anything harder.
She traced a scuff mark
with her finger,
her hand so small -
pudgy-fingered and soft.
There has never been anything ever so soft,
except maybe her heart,
which was tender and young
And had never known pain.
Not really.
She drew her knees up
to her chest,
where her tender heart beat,
and made herself small
As small as small as could  be
and never was she ever so small,
not when her Mama told her
how big she was,
how glorious was her spirit.
Don't hide, Mama said,
so she made herself as big as big could be.
But not now,
now was a time of small
and unknown pain,
and fear as big as the sky.
Now was the time of
a cold hard tile,
an ungiving tile,
scuffed,
empty,
Harder than ever hard was.
Harder than ever was pharoah's heart.
Harder than waiting
for Mama to come.

The Longest Journey: a poem for Tisha B'av

The longest journey

begins with a breath -

   breath being one of the names of God -

and ends in Breath:

   as the name of God is a prayer: amen.

It is played out

on a bridge more narrow than fear

and wider than Heaven,

and gathers together
the battered, embattled rubble

of broken days and history.

It is - as if it ever wasn't - love,

that journey of unknown proportion,

coming not because of,

nor in spite of, but 

a love that is whole

and endless

   and love -

      God, yes!

         Love,

             in all its infinite

                 and glorious

                    unknowing

                       boundlessness -

                          Love.

                          Love.

That is the journey.
That is the breath

That is the name
of God

Amen.

For Tisha B'av