The flood gate has opened.
And the water is filled with the sunken.
From the depths, come sisters’ cries,
Faint but discernible.
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And yet…the others look to themselves.
“It was me.”
“I did it.”
“Punish me.”
“Admonish me.”
“See me.”
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The shame is paralyzing, unyielding Â
Defacing.
And while brothers wander in the lonely pasture.
Sisters are still in the water.Â
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Let us walk from land to sea.
And listen to the prayer of the sunken:
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Shema Yisrael
Hear O Israel.
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Concern us not with how we are seen.
But with how we hear. And act.
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Pulling our sistersÂ
and our selves out of the drowning placeÂ
At long, long last.
