I cannot sleep
My mind swimming with
What compassion requires,
What the food of inspiration,
Where we are going.
What the dream of salvation.
These quiet hours remind me
Of Sephardi shuls
And villages
The knock on the door
“Selikhot,
Selikhot”
And they rose
And they gathered
And they prayed at the high point of the moon
Inverse of the day’s sun
When we dread to show our flaws in the light.
Our naked sins
Held in the soft fabric of night.
A kindness
A mercy
A soft landing
As we face the morrow.
And after.
