I Find You Miriam

Dedicated to my great grandmother,  Miriam Rosenbaum.     

May her memory be for a blessing, for a well, for a thread backwards and forwards.

 

in the waters, sometimes sweet,

sometimes embittered,

within the hidden name

of my Aunt Marsha

almost forgotten

a prayer from the Ancestors.

 

I see you Miriam,

named for the bitter

and the sea, marah

seeping in mayim,

what better way

to live in Torah

than as herb and medicine,

tilting the storied sea

with your moon bellied hips,

raising waves

rippling through

our wandering

bodies.

 

Shiru, let us sing

as we cross over

when the forces of destruction

seem just a hair breathe away,

you lead us full moon back

into the circle dance of

olam habah, the world to come

now rising in the center,

each of us a spoke

of the wheel

spinning round

the light,

 

Shiru - we sing

with our muddied feet

our thirst and hungers,

you lead us toward the holy trees

branch and bark of Acacia,

Oak, Stone Pine, Juniper,

fruiting olive, lemon and pomegranate,

nettle, myrrh and oats

just beyond the Mountain of God,

toward the caves of our descent and ascent

where a generosity of figs

planted by the ancestors

of all wandering peoples await us.

In the cold mornings of our awakenings

we feast on dew

tasting of coriander

and honeyed wafers,

drinking cups of

your sweetened waters

your hands steadying ours.

 

You never left us,

from Ellim to Rephadim,

from the Nile to the Reed Sea,

the River Jordan, the Mediterranean,

across the Atlantic, Lake Michigan - all

the rivers and seas

my grandfather crossed,

your name a bag of herbs

a beloved seed

saved in his pocket.