Days of Awe Come Around Again: Everyday Magic, Day 733

So it’s begun: the Days of Awe, the span between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur when Jews (and anyone else thus inclined) are supposed to make amends for any wrong we’ve done, forgive those who have wronged us, and forgive ourselves. Here’s the poem I wrote last year, which I’ll be reading right before the torah service at the Lawrence Jewish Community Congregation today. Blessings for all of us to find our ways through forgiveness and amends to our true home.

Entering the Days of Awe

Let us walk unfettered into these days

unfurling in the sun, wide fields of old grasses

bracketed by sunflowers and pebbles.

Let us step into the lapis sky that fastens itself

to the driveway, the sidewalk, the worn leaves

of dying summer under new leaf fall.

 

Let us give up the wasteful thinking,

the 2 a.m. anxieties over what cannot be changed,

the waking with a gasp. Let us stand in the morning,

the new chill of the air clearing the disgards of time,

fear, reaching too hard or not enough.

 

Let the wrongs be made right. Let forgiveness

overtake the words we hear and pray, the stories

we’ve made and tilted. Let us remember this dreaming song

from all our beloveds long gone or just over the bend,

each note engraved with lost lands, singing

of how good it is when we dwell together.

 

Let the peripheral vision in the days of awe show us

the world, the first seeing of the heart, the last pulse

of those we love who travel with us. Let the wind shake

the trees, the tattered leaves shine, the last butterflies

flash their orange, the first dark blue of night

open into a panorama of past and present light

on its way to us all.

 

Let the next breath we take inscribe us in the book of life.

Let the next breath you give welcome us home.

– Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg

 

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3 responses to “Days of Awe Come Around Again: Everyday Magic, Day 733

  1. Beautiful, as always!

  2. I feel a sense of sadness and yet a sense of awe in these lines. So much loss, so much behind us, amends yet to be made … we humans experience it all. Nature, and we, sorrow together.

  3. I was awed all over again as you read this in this morning’s Rosh Hashannah service at the Lawrence Jewish Community Congregation. You have blessed us all by writing it, and double the blessing every time you read it. La Shana Tovah!