Hayotzer*,
One who shapes,
Who formed us out of moistened clay,
Who rolled and pinched and sculpted the world,
hold me now.
You who enable wisps of seeds to grow,
Who partnered the life which grew inside me,
shelter me.
Life was gifted.
Life removed.
Hayotzer,
shape me a place where I can weep,
and mourn the loss,
and let the blackness inside
cry.
Help me say goodbye
to the child
who was growing within me,
to the dreams I bore,
to the love I held within for that budding soul,
plucked away.
Let my voice ring,
a mother’s call,
wild to the universe,
And You,
stand by me,
stand at my side,
and watch my tear fall and touch the earth.
Hear my pain and
hold me.
Hayotzer,
You who shaped me,
Heal my body and my soul.
Mend my spirit.
Thread new life among my bones.
Help me to find ground again.
To feel the earth beneath my toes.
To smell the beckoning scent of rich soil.
To see shoots of green emerge through winter beds,
determined hands grasping life.
To hear the sap rushing within.
I kneel to plant.
A seed of life.
An act of faith.
Hayotzer,
Sower of life,
Take my hand and, for a time,
hold it tight.
* Hayotzer, one of seventy names of God, is translated roughly as “One Who fashions, forms, creates.”
Excerpts from Lifecycles Vol. 1: Jewish Women on Life Passages and Personal Milestones, ed. Debra Orenstein (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1994). www.jewishlights.com.
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