Mar Heshvan

autumn forest with path between trees and waning light
I said another “goodbye”
To you, mom,
During that shift
Of time and space,
Heart and ties,
When gathered with
All of Israel.
Your death
Was not my fault.
Lo, I cannot stand
In any other way,
Than that of being
With my chosen people.
Whatever is old,
I grant permission,
To wither away.
Whatever is being born
In the darkened seed
Of Mar Heshvan
Is welcomed.
The month of Joseph whispering,
His son Manasseh’s name
“God has made me
Forget completely
My hardship and
My parental home.”
The place of brokenness;
The starting point of repair.
By means of rain,
And scent of heart,
Star Anise and cinnamon,
Cardamom and cloves,
Even as the grasses
(Re)turn to green.
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