Dedicated to the memory of my brother, Garry Lee Zimmerman, written on the yahrzeit of his suicide in 1994. And dedicated to our mother.
It is a strange thing to say,
But I will say it, anyway.
“I am grateful, mom,
For your death.”
Between these days
Of liminal space –
Of movement
And
Of standing still –
While all of shimmering Creation
Rushes toward
Searing,
Relentless,
Brilliant,
Rakhamim
As it illuminates
Incandescent gates of
Holy Olam Haba.
Blessed burning of yahrzeit candle
Kindling boundary,
Of mundane,
Beautiful,
Yet very temporary,
Human body.
Divine Outer Light
And Divine Inner,
Joining,
Conjoining
During Days of Awe
Alongside my Path of Mourning.
Turning.
Returning.
Light into Light;
Life into Life;
Love into Love.
I am grateful, mom,
For your kisses of light
Helping reveal,
To me,
What is nothing more than
A veil.
