I held you Torah in my arms
a loaf of fragrant bread
a baby scented with other-world sweetness
I cradled your
black-inked letters,
letters overflowing with infinity,
vessels of ancient
murmurs
whispering
secrets in my ear.
And as I dance, I whirl–
centuries blurring,
I cannot stop.
Around I go, whipped
by past images
past tortures
faster and faster
fists and guns
gas and naked
bodies.
I want to stop but I spin
through time
spiraling out of control
into the future.
Finally
my arms pumped with weight,
I clasp
only flames
that singe, and scorch
that sear and
scar.
My Torah is on fire
and my tears,
though my tears cascade
this blaze will not be
subdued.
