This Holy Place: a poem for Acharei mot

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 an 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.

A Place of Agonizing Beauty

I spied Hannah once,
from the corner of my eye,
prostrated before Your altar;
in her deepest heart
a place of
agonizing beauty;
her call so silent
only a god
could hear.
My heart
thuds too loudly in
my ears; there is
no quiet place,
no stillness.
Is that where
You hide?
If I call "Ayekah?"
Would you answer?

God, but I'm tired!
I am done
looking.
Ayeka?
I no longer care.

I am here.

Proof

From a smudge
A half hidden spot of
Pale light that did less to
Illumine the darkness
Than give proof
To just how
Dark it was.

I waited for my soul
To blister

in the light of

that smudge

that reflected -

barely -

in the tatters of

skittering clouds,

high above

silvered pavement

and drifting snow.

I waited for my soul
to blister
for my skin 
to spark.
I wait for fire to
fill me
and move me
in the pale and
simmering light
of smudged darkness.
I wait for
proof,  
was flooded 
with doubt.
Still I dance in smudged
darkness, on silvered
pavement and drifting
snow. I wait,
dancing.

In Praise of Doubt

I find God in my doubt,
In the struggle to
Be
The absolute best of me,
And in my fear
That I find only my
Worst.
I wrestle,
and am restless
and I wander, rootless,
exiled,
barricaded by my silence.
God of Hosts
and Light
and Mercy--
God of the desert
and unseen edges--
God of my devotion
and my rebellion:
Open my lips
That I may declare your praise.


c Stacey Zisook Robinson
20 June 2014

Elul. Day Three: Blessing

After all this time, I still need to be reminded that I swim in a sea of infinite blessing.

Much of the time, I wear the world like tight, ill-fitting clothing: uncomfortable, making me fidget and focus on all the wrong things. It is so much easier to focus on the discomfort and discontent. It is, ironically, my comfort zone.

I know brokenness. I know pain. I am no stranger to loneliness or doubt or despair. I lived with them for what seems like forever.

But an odd thing happened one day, when I chose to trade despair for hope. And at first, that trade left me raw and stripped bare and vulnerable. I was still blind to the hope, still blind to the sea of blessings.

But I kept at it. I'm still not quite sure why. One day to the next, and the next after that, a long string of unbroken next days that moved me, with inexorable grace, to the unabashed certainty that I am blessed. Beyond belief, I am blessed.

There is light, and joy, and hope immeasurable.  There is pain still, but that too is a blessing, because I can feel it, feel the brokenness and fractured rhythms of my life still, but I am no longer consumed by it. I am sober, and I can hope and I am blessed.

I'm grateful, during this month of Elul, for the discipline of mindfulness. That, too, is a blessing, that obligation. Of course, the way I see it now-- it's all blessing, all of it, all the noisy, clamoring, transcendent holy mess of life. And today, of all days, on this third day of Elul, I am reminded, and I am infinitely grateful for this sea of infinite blessing.

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.


For Elul 5773
Dedicated to Craig Taubman, for first showing me the beauty of this month, and Julie Silver, for showing me the beauty of letting go.