Opening interruptus
Cloud static blocks the words but not the voices
The judge shakes her head
Back and forth the argument tumbles
While jurors annoy at the first of many pauses
Turning away
Both lawyers smiling
The vanquished as well as the victor
Opening continues
The point reinforced

I have rubbed the dirt of my father’s grave
Deeply into weary lines of my hands
Required to wield the long heaving spade
That spilled Your earth over the plain pine box
Enfolding Your creation forever

Now I am exempt from obligation
The last act of love for him replacing
The words of my daily recitation

When the hot water strikes its cleansing claws
Against the sleep spoiled pores of my body
And I am most vulnerable and bare
So that the least stray thought sprays
Into a fountain to be seen forever

And when I try to wash in purity
To begin a new day knowing that a rooster
Knows better about when to rise, and when
I say Hear O Israel silently
Reciting so as not to wake my wife

And forgo the donning of Tefillin,
Is it truly that I lie to myself?
What can be a more complete connection
To the Ultimate than to accept It
Every morning in all Its scalding force?

On his way to pray he saw there ahead
A scaffolding swaying in the strong wind

He could cross four busy lanes of traffic
Or could walk under and hope it withstood

The force of God’s breath

Either way, the obituary would
List his name, accomplishments, and mourners

He dare not think if a prayer might spare him
He could just quickly voice his last Sh’ma

Ready for judgment

So what is the beginning of a prayer
When one is bound to carry through?

If I enter Your house
Is there no retreat
Until I fast repeat
Those certain words of truth?

So where is the beginning of a prayer
That we are bound to carry through?

If we need not come in
What forces us to stay?
When must we continue
Or else say “never mind”?

So when is the beginning of a prayer
That I am bound to carry through?

If I say “Dear God, please …”
And then forget the rest
Or stumble with my thoughts
Have I sinned or floated free?

Seven days without a dream
Without a trace of fire in the night
Without a visit from the heavens
I’ve been left far behind
Forgotten in the rear
While others have been
Led to safety

Seven days without a dream
Yet I’ve done the hardest studying
I’ve read ’til candles burned themselves out
My eyes teared with madness
Sated as best I could
But still my sick sleep
Has been empty.

Now what evil will befall
When God has turned His back so fully
When Divine concern has run its course
Never to return to
One who’s waited always
Burdened by fear and
Challenged for love?

He stood to praise the minor miracle
To seek blessing at the
Coming of the new moon

When dusty from the road came upon them
Rav, the son of Shava,
Rabbi with few students

Not impressed with dust or paltry learning
Nor his lateness for prayer
Ravina did not greet

Surely a day of only small wonder
He could have said “Shalom”
Or smiled at Shava’s son

But to interrupt his words needed more
Someone he could respect
Required a better man　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

Where are you, Helen Hall? / Where lies your play of words? /Where lies your book, your soul?/ A poet I well recall.

 Where are you, Helen Hall? / Among your brethren cold/ But while you lived you wrote / “A lark is singing on the ruined wall.”