Love Is Good, But It’s Good With Bread

*an old Yiddish saying.   In honor of my granddaughter

 

Begin with water slightly warmed

      here, let me dip your finger

mixed with two teaspoons of magic

disguised as yeast for the sake of awakening

our capacity to rise, add one third cup honey,

not sugar, so the passion of bees for sweetness

may be braided into our bodies,

mix five cups of ground wheat once sculpted

by light into waves of green, dried and harvested

for this moment, add three eggs

for the reminder of how the whole

conceals fractal and expansion -

cracking each shell as we once burst

into the possibility of bodies.

Mix one teaspoon hope, one teaspoon longing,

then pause, with patience,

attention - essential ingredients.

Trust your hands to know

how long to knead this doughy

dream of becoming.  Practice

separation and return, weaving

two groups of six strands,

recalling offerings to holy crumbled sanctuaries

rising once again in this instant from exile.

 

Light a steady fire in the hearth of your ancestors

   where you can always find me.

Open the door, release this work

of our warmed and floured hands, bake

these loaves of generosity

gifted by generations to whom

you will always belong.

 

Wait in witness with all your senses

for when to kneel and birth

these browned and braided beings

who only ask that we find them

to be delicious.