What is it like to not pray?
A dove without wings.
A lute without strings.
And a sky without stars.
The midbar is my mouth.
When it opens, there is nothing
But dryness and dull aching.
But there is something forming.
A flood rising in the dark of my lungs.
The tide, she whispers:
RuakhLit. Spirit. Some new versions of blessings call God "Spirit of the World" (Ruakh Ha’olam), rather than "King of the World" (Melekh Ha'olam). hayyim
Quiet and dampened.