11 November 2005
A poem I wrote for my girlfriend one Shabbat lo these many years ago.
The rabbis tell us that the Creator
speaks her creation into existence --
a continuous, continual stream
of black fire
curdling, consuming, creating,
becoming everything we have ever known,
everything that ever will be.
If She pauses,
even to catch her breath,
our world would scroll back on itself
and blink out of existence.
Like the Talmudic legend,
you and I speak our lives
and our love
into existence --
telling each other,
how it is with us.
But in the empty spaces between our words,
in our dark sweet silence,
there is no void,
There is only the holy spark of our love,
the divine presence of Shechinah
draping her blessing over our lives
like a tallit,
warm like the Breath of Life.
Our lives braid together like challah,
like our bodies in the night,
striving toward the moment of union,
like the Shechinah and her holy one.