Ivri

My husband took the name, Ivri,
The Hebrew;
The border-crosser.
He took it because
in his life he’s crossed
many a border.
 
So too, have I.
So too, am I crossing now.
So too, did my crossing begin
October 7th–
a day my world changed,
and forever.
 
What is a border,
if not a boundary?
 
What is a boundary,
if it is not a limit?
 
What is a limit,
if not a line?
 
What good is a line
if it is not compassionate?
 
The mystics teach that compassion
is the result of unending chesed
contained within discerning gevurah.
 
Every human life is sacred;
Every human life 
a spark of the Divine.
 
There is a line 
drawn by darkness,
emboldened by Evil, itself.
 
Compassion–rachamim–
fruit of the womb of Shekhinah, Herself.
 
We are stretching because of this birthing;
We are pained because of this blood.

 

 

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