I lift up my eyes and look through the branches
The stars are there, but I cannot see them.
There is too much light on the manmade horizons,
Lamps lit in vain to dispel a deep darkness.
The scent of the etrog is citrus, so sharp,
the lulav is fragile and beginning to unravel.
I shake them in all directions, say traditional prayers,
Yet still my heart wonders, are You really there?
I hear echoes of far distant days long before
our Ancestors came to rely only on You.
Whispers of hope and prayers for good harvests,
Dancing into the night to appease angry gods.
I struggle this year to choose who to invite
To enter my sukkah, sit with me for a while.
I can think only of who I would never invite,
Or who couldn’t come anyway because they are gone.
Forgive me this year for struggling to remember,
That even in darkness Your Light is still here.
For bringing such fragile things into my sukkah,
And stomping on them in defiance of hope.
You are my Hope, I have not forgotten.Â
It is only mine that is weakened and fragile.
Teach me new words so I may be oh, so joyful,
And share all my harvests in peace and with song.
