A Sewn Amidah

person standing in field draped in purple tallit

Each stitch is a name, a voice, a memory, a mitzvah of old;
Each stitch connects them with me and me with mine,
Each stitch securing us in the fabric of life.
Each stitch, Holy, Holy, Holy;
Each stitch calling the Angels, who call to more,
“Come see the Holy One praised in the stitches.”

Each stitch piecing together a picture of where the next stitch will lead.
Each stitch turning back and forth; stopping where it is meant to be.
Each stitch no matter how small, how loosened, can be repaired.
Each stitch releasing stitches that have bound, separating instead of joining.
Each stitch repairing the body, the heart, the spirit; finding holes needing repair.
Each stitch placed in its proper time and place; sustaining the woven web.
Each stitch drawing the scattered fabrics in to the whole.
Each stitch loyal to the ones before it, judging its place in relationship to the pattern,
Each stitch making humble those that would damage the weave.
Each stitch connecting to the East, free of oppression and fear.
Each stitch counts, as if it were the only one; the finished piece depending only on it.
Each stitch a prayer, a call; connecting all other stitches to the hand of the tailor.

Each stitch placed with joy to serve the Holy One.
Each stitch placed in thanksgiving for the miracle of its existence in the construction,
Each stitch a moment in a time of peace, a time of beauty, a time that touches,
Each stitch.