The Jewish Calendar

The old woman sits at the Western Wall. Although she’s toothless and her eyes are dim, She sits and waits for the shofar’s call...

Inhale
the shofar’s blasts
and let its white voice
expand as it whirls within you.

Remind me, somehow remind me, of the eighteen days ‘till
when I, in spinning cyclone of summer
have, again, emptied writhing soaked towel mass
knotted in sand-slicked bathing gear
into the machine, it’s hum a heartbeat alongside mine,

Eyes Marvel at infinite shades of color, Highlighted Beyond The Myriads Of Infinite Shades, Endlessly Expanding, Escalating, Increasing, Limitless Compilations Of G-d’s Ultimate Creation...

"Break, shatter, blast." Too many days
This year have known the sullen blaze
And blast disfigure our design.
Our hard hearts, G-d? They're shivered fine --
What's left, then, for these sounds to craze?

Every year, when the days
Begin to shorten
And summer camp ends
Lilac-colored flowers
Bloom in my garden.
The King in His glory
Comes down to the field.
I am sure He has come
To enjoy my flowers
And comfort me as I
Struggle to bid summer goodbye.

In the autumn garden,
I chop away dead yucca spires,
their white bell blossoms distant
in memory.

There was a time
I would follow this adventure,
but now I pause imperceptibly,
go about my day...

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Candles burning in the storm,
flickering lights, no path do they form.
Sounds of thunder that echo the night,
shattering the silence, creating fright.

The turmoil in the world this year,
Is cause of much unhappiness and fear.
Recession, bailouts, Ponzi and Mumbai,
A sense of universal instability that is hard to deny.

For this special Purim day, I searched for a theme to share,
A message, a lesson, a wrong to repair.
I was in a pickle, with no innovative or novel preparation,
Afraid this Purim would be without my usual mishloach manot creation.

Set is the table in the ancient way:
With the triumphal wine, the humble-bread,
The platters that to hungry eyes display
The story-food whose meanings we shall read.

All over around the world do we reunite Seated at the same table, friends and family To tell the same story, way into the night...

Enslaved, Caged, Imprisoned,
A people bound to their G-d,
Frightened, anxious, laboring oppression
Beaten, diminished, dehumanized, degraded;
Daring diversity, dis-similar from the lot…

Winter trees tremble with the last of chilling winds.
Twilight hangs like frost tempting frozen relief.
Brown aching branches have weathered every storm.
Bending beaten arms of black – tired arms of black.<

With every breath,
with every taste,
with all my senses,
gratitude I have and give thanks
as I discover miracles
waiting for me this morning.
I laugh with glee
as I find Your babies
in Your magical garden that I tend.

Blanket Of Holiness Enfolds Me
Like The Presence Of Shechina (Divine Presence) Covering The Earth…
Their Powerful Voices, In Unisons Soar To The Heavens,
Opening Gates For The Earthbound Voyager's Entrance,