Kaddish

The mourners within me rise
for the sake of the forgotten,
for the sake of the slaughter, for the sake
of the wounding,
the broken, the grief.

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Shma: She Who Listens

Shma – listen, receive
what has been broken,
longs to return, open
the dark cramped places, let
walls crumble, let pain lift,
all the tired, overused burdens.

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Constructing An Altar

I clear a space for praise, placing three stones, loosened from well worn shoes,
beside essence of sage, still green slivers of thyme, and lavender – the scent
wanders towards my drying skin and spine, filling in the cracks. I place

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Without

Without breasts
a woman’s heart
rounds and softens her body,
bears her milk.

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Mystery

Between the dark cocoon
and the last flight
inside the threading of light
into motion and wing

in the middle of vast hunger and feasts
a single azure bowl
brimming with emptiness

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Beginnings

There she sat in her void
life and word still a dark whole
and she said: let there be
self, and there was
pink flailing breathing –
reaching to find the familiar edges
of what had been womb.

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After Colleyville

we stand again
at the foot of the mountain of God
and everything is speaking to us
terror and beauty,
in language that is beyond
the knowable

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