We visit my 93-year-old mother
Shekhinah and I
Every Sunday
Bringing challah, strawberries
Cherries, tomatoes, melon and
A box of 6/36 staples
Bringing a bissel of humour
Some loving-kindness
Despair hidden inside
All three of us
Locked together in a big house sapping energy
With memories and repairs
Shekhinah and I share sadness
As we witness her body and mind decay
Our pain and our loss weigh heavy
I want to introduce them
Shekhinah and my mother
They share a love of flowers, birds,
Plants, trees, cats
But her childhood years of an
Orthodox God
Oppressive rules created around Him
Banished Shekhinah
No teaching of meaning to girls
Alone now, only I enact that lineage
Each week we visit, Shekhinah and I
She fuels me from within
As I remember
Kindness and compassion
Listening to the complaints
Doing the tasks under tight motherly supervision
We return home
Shekhinah and I
I rest, find soft freshness of sleep
Bathing gently in Shekhinah
Art by the poet
