Shabbat Amidah

It is traditional to take three steps forward and bow before beginning the silent Amidah.

Women's Ward, 1929
(Ancestors)

My grandfather sits in the photo on my desk in his
White jacket with one button undone. He has all his hair.
His mustache is trimmed as I remember but an unfamiliar dark color
He sits on the edge of the bed, almost in the shadows.

At the center of the picture is a young woman,
Startling in her resemblance to my oldest friend, born 30 years later.
They are both smiling, and the nurse
Hovers in the background, adding a note of propriety.

Blessed are you, God of our ancestors, who acted as the strength of Abraham and the shield of Sarah.

Wyoming Night, 1982
(Divine Power)

In your arms I first saw a shooting star
Power of God in the western sky.
So bright I hid my eyes against your chest.

So bright, our love that night, that I imagined
Everyone could see through the thin fabric of the tent.
Awesome and terrifying, the power of God.

Awesome and terrifying, next morning,
As we packed up camp and I turned away
From the light of the star, from the joining,
From the comfort of your arms.

Blessed are you, Sovereign of the Universe, who gives and renews life.

Bed 9, ICU, 1987
(Hallowing God's Name)

She waits.
The noise of the ventilator whooshes the air
In and out. The monitor
Beeps its message of alarm - blood pressure! oxygenation!
Her children murmur.
Please, they asked. We understand
But our sisters are missionaries - in Africa, in Siberia - And we need them here. Please. And so we continue.
Whooshing and beeping, clicking and humming,
The bed groans as it rises and falls
With the height of today's nurse.

And then I can't hear the whooshing and beeping
And humming and groaning
And murmuring and clicking, but instead
I hear singing. Her children, come home from their calling,
Stand in a circle around her bed and sing.
They fill the space with harmony, with joy, with love
For their God, for their mother, for each other.

And she is lifted up.

Holy are you, and awe-inspiring is your name, and there is no God apart from you. Blessed are you, Eternal One, who creates holiness.

Saturday Morning, 2007
(The Day's Holiness)

Quickly, while my mother is upstairs, I pile the newspapers,
move the as-yet-uncarved pumpkin to the other counter
and race through the dishes.

Our ballerina is warming at the barre, bending her head with neat bun
over her knee in line with all the other girls, but to my eye
more graceful. Her father
is at shul, I am praying.

We will have a lost Saturday, giving up
our routine to honor the visiting grandmother, forgoing
our chores because it's hard for her,
after 52 years,
after a life,
to spend a weekend alone, to look at the chair
in the kitchen, the cover over the pool,
the porch furniture under its tarp,
and not think of him dying on the driveway.

It is her gift to us today, an excuse
To skip the grocery store
Ignore the bills
Dodge the committee planning
Go outside into the autumn
And perhaps,
over lunch or ice cream or while we walk the dog,
to lay ourselves to rest.

Blessed are you, Sacred One, source of the holiness of Shabbat.

Alto Section, 1976
(Worship)

Blend! he shouts, and we stop mid-phrase.
I look at my feet, quite sure that I'm the one
ruining the sound, the voice that sticks out, too loud,
too flat, too something.

Listen to each other - softer, now, not shouting,
exasperation still evident in every syllable.
Listen. He raises his arms, nods to the piano, and we begin again,
measure 24, the sevenfold Amen.

Listen. I open my ears to the sounds behind me, and open my mouth
but I do not hear my own voice. Blend. And we do,
and each of us is in the music and the music is in each of us,
and there is harmony, and for the first time in my life,
transcendence.

Blessed are you, The Faithful One, who brings your presence home to Zion.

Hospice, 2010
(Thanks)

I know everyone says this, don't they?
Everyone says you all are angels.
But I mean it, I really do.

Last night the nurse came in.
It was dark, I couldn't make out her face;
she thought I was asleep.

She came over to the bed
and bent down.
I saw her touch Mom's face, just for a moment,
and I could tell how much she cared.

An angel, I tell you,
like all the rest of you.
Brought here by God because we needed you.
I never knew this place was here.
I must have driven by a hundred times.
From now on, every time I'm near,
I'll offer a prayer of thanks.

Blessed are you, The Gracious One, whose name is good, to whom all thanks are due.

Bedtime, 2004
(Blessing for Peace)

Mama, what is war?
War is a fight between countries or groups of people.
Is it bad?
Yes, it is. People are killed and hurt in war, and it doesn't really solve anything.
So why do we have war?
I wish I knew for sure, sweetie. We have wars, I think, because we haven't come up with a better way of settling our differences.
Will there still be war when I get big?
I wish I could say "no", but I think there will still be war.
When I grow up, my friends and I will figure out how to make it better.
I know you will, honey. I know you will.

Blessed are you, Compassionate One, maker of peace.

Step six

I . . .
well, I think we can make it.
We certainly should try.
You step down
I'll step up and
we'll get there

somehow.

The world is our playground.
Please don't think I'm being flippant.
It's just that . . . . I can finally breathe again.

Let's
break
this
down.

I love you.
I worked really hard to get where I'm going.
You think I should breathe more.
So, I'm trying.

I would have never let go of the steering wheel if it weren't for you.

Oh God, thank you.
for forcing me down
for closing my eyes
so I could really open them.

It's beautiful

Beautiful.
Yes.

Fine.

From one, still point, there are infinite directions.
Ascent, descent. Right, left. Whatever
decision, whatever direction,
it could go either way.
"Do you trust me?" asked the mad man.
"No?" said the girl.
Let's sleep on it, and in the morning,
after church, but before the party,
we'll make the decision at last.
There was a sing-song quality
to the voice, and laying out the bits of paper,
the lace and beads and glue,
she knew that no matter what was next,
she would be fine.

Life-stepping

Step one: Grow up traumatised.
Step two: Build a normal life.
Step three: Marry a stable guy.
Step four: Tear it all down and start over.
Step five: Die traumatised.

A Simple Shift

Footprints of a life on my chest, suffocating me.
heavy souled boots.

I lie on the floor looking down at my body
and up at you. Immobilized just for now.

Forty years. Forty steps.
and I still love.

I roll over, use the strength
of my arms, and raise myself.

I am one and always one.
I am still beauty, still.

In nothing but a simple shift,
I stand before myself. and begin.

I walk with the conviction
of someone freshly robbed
and lightly beaten. Like someone
testing each piece of driftwood on the beach
for  before going forward. I walk
not needing or wanting to look back.

I am new and always new.

I am.

not the footprints of a life.

Staggering through Unfamiliar Territory

One foot in front of the other.
Steady, girl -
Watch out for the hazards.
It'd be easier, I know,
if they were always the same.

But the rocks and roots and holes
That can trip you up
Are as varied and numerous as the
Routes in and out
of this desert wilderness.

The map isn't clear.
No way to tell if
today this step
will be okay.
Or will be the thing that causes you to stumble

Down the rabbit hole again.

So it's okay to go slow.
To take your time.
To be terrified of
landscapes that aren't yet familiar.

It's okay to trip.
Okay to fall.
But you can't stay on the ground.

Because, kid -
You'll never get out of here
if you don't put

One foot in front of the other.

Week 4: Steps

This week's theme is: Steps. Now go write some poetry!