Bearing down
In fear and disconnection,
Grasping to touch anything solid,
We long to create something
We can truly feel.
Each has gazed at many mountains
Over this past year;
Peaks of the infected,
Deserts of the isolated,
Deep valleys home to
Silver River Bottoms,
Flowing with tears.
Yet here,
In Holy space
Of ether and metal,
We offer our half-shekel’s worth
Of comfort through language
As we lean into one another
At the base of a screen,
Fingers on keyboards,
Communal in creation,
Our mishkan, still
And traveling,
With The All,
Through all, right here.
