Last night
as I sat in
the ancient temple
atop the mountain,
my people surrounding
me, generations
upon generations,
voices ascending
in the wispy and
earthbound solidarity
of ancient prayers,
I felt the words
rise up
around me, protecting, loving
their intonations
tingling inside
the doorways
of my brain
expanding the limits
through glass
and sacred ceilings,
up unto the stars
celestial understandings
pushing through
my crumbling
walls to break
through barriers
from the thickness
of night
reaching out
into purity, a beckoning
of light
and the words, the singsong tones
passed down from the ancients
like candlelit incantations
grew soft, invisible wings
that touched my cheek
the silky presence of
the grounded power
of my ancestors
welling up in the
dark caverns within
and as we sang
of new beginnings
and listened with one heart
to the call of the shofar,
that ram's horn of blessings,
my knotted
loops of longing
resonated in musical notes
strands of the primordial
in the deep forest
echoes
of my being
linking my soul's cry
to all the people
of my book
in a long swirling line
down to the river,
the desert, the oceans
a tight braided chord
of solidarity, of lineage, of blood
the flesh and bones of heritage
pumping crimson freedom
Yes,
somewhere,
in even the most
broken chords
of heartstrings
tiny wings
beat
hope
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 3:35 AM UTC
Last night
as I sat in
the ancient temple
atop the mountain,
my people surrounding
me, generations
upon generations,
voices ascending
in the wispy and
earthbound solidarity
of ancient prayers,
I felt the words
rise up
around me, protecting, loving
their intonations
tingling inside
the doorways
of my brain
expanding the limits
through glass
and sacred ceilings,
up unto the stars
celestial understandings
pushing through
my crumbling
walls to break
through barriers
from the thickness
of night
reaching out
into purity, a beckoning
of light
and the words, the singsong tones
passed down from the ancients
like candlelit incantations
grew soft, invisible wings
that touched my cheek
the silky presence of
the grounded power
of my ancestors
welling up in the
dark caverns within
and as we sang
of new beginnings
and listened with one heart
to the call of the shofar,
that ram's horn of blessings,
my knotted
loops of longing
resonated in musical notes
strands of the primordial
in the deep forest
echoes
of my being
linking my soul's cry
to all the people
of my book
in a long swirling line
down to the river,
the desert, the oceans
a tight braided chord
of solidarity, of lineage, of blood
the flesh and bones of heritage
pumping crimson freedom
Yes,
somewhere,
in even the most
broken chords
of heartstrings
tiny wings
beat
hope
I am not religious at all. But I found a beautiful light energy in an unexpected place (ironically..for most people very expected but for me not), during a holiday that celebrates renewal. Perhaps the concept of renewal is prticularly significant for me at this time; I think it is significant for all of us, at the right time..:)
* shofar- ram's horn, blown into on certain Jewish holidays to "remind us of the primordial scream, the eternal voiceless call of the soul expressing its desire to return to its Creator."
