~~~~
~for Isabel (‘30), Alexander (‘31), and Wendy (‘35)~
~~~~
In a place of perfect solitude,
No crowded synagogue within to hide,
No cantor to intercede on my behalf,
I spoke words of mine own creation
To my Creator
Who wisely empowers me
To judge myself, for knowing,
None harsher
We two,
Old travel companions,
Upon worn grayed, Adirondack thrones,
We overlooked
A natural prayer place,
Bay and breeze, white-clouded, sun-laced.
Only the full time inhabitants,
the animals,
Grayling butterflies to match and contrast,
Eavesdropping on our Greek dialogo,
In this holy place,
Palace of Perfect Solitude
Amiable did we chat,
I, of family, this and that
He,
wearied from recent travel,
To Syria and India,
Was glad for a day off,
For He had little to do,
But wait for twilight,
To then close the books
For us no formality, easy the going,
No prosecutor, no defender in residence,
For we exchanged these roles intermittently,
The incriminatory, the penance, all deeds displayed,
No adult games of winking eyes, and
Hidden heart, secret chambers,
Rabbinical or angelic intercession
He does so love his Bach,
Adagio on strings,
My soothing gift to him,
This music more than divine
He returned this courtesy
Warming sun to expose my chest,
Cooling genteel breeze offsetting,
sunset color palette spectacular,
The bay emptied of wayfaring skiffs and yachts.
A cooling beverage proffered,
But sighing, He said that he had yet to find
A beverage that could ever slake
his kind of thirst
For his eyes, tho shining, did not effervesce,
As when we shared this day in years past
Too much killing, this year,
It tires Me so to tabulate human excess,
Spoke not a word, for my critique would
Comfort him less,
if at all
Thanks for Kol Nidre, He plainted,
So I too can disavow,
The best intended oaths I took and take,
For each year, I fail more than the year before.
If only I could sit with each,
As I do with you,
Where what needs saying,
Is said, understood,
Undisguised as praying
A schooner to the dock did appear,
For Him it attended, for Him, it waited,
Sails, wind whipped,
Sails, both black and white.
He stood to depart, my arms-he-grasped,
Me-taken, he-graphing,
Measuring my fortitude, the strength,
of my divine spark
I do so love this day in your company.
I shall sit with you again one year on,
Bach sweet, when next we meet, please
Soft spoke, as almost I should not hear,
Your time is nigh, no thing I create is forever.
He spoke with such sadness,
For well I knew, the intent, his meaning.
He,
for-himself, saddened, for he loved
Sitting beside me in this manner,
Since my inception, never a deception
Only He resting easy,
when He atoned before me,
And I gave him His absolution conditional,
As he gave me,
mine