In my handful of Jewish years,
As Kol Nidre approaches
At the tail end
Of this horrific year,
A year of brokenness and loss,
Of tearing that feels beyond repair,
Of trauma igniting trauma,
Of harsh words,
And targeted offense
And radical defense,
Of not knowing who is the offender,
Or who is the offended,
Or who has caused the offense,
Who carries it,
And who will, finally,
Lay it all down.
When our mortal bodies
Sense their mortality
And our souls ache toward
All Infinity
We stand between the worlds;
Between the realms.
We cry out that we are trying our best,
Even as we weep
Knowing not everything will be mended.
What else can we do
Expect hold to the promise
That we will be met
Beyond the gates,
In the field,
By love?
God does for us,
What we cannot do for ourselves.
God forgives us
In order that we are able to return
To the work,
The service,
And the praise,
In the knowledge that
While we are finite,
It is the goodness
Our lives can add
To the Goodness that will
Ultimately prevail.
