“Barukh Ata Adonai Elohenui Velohei avotenu v’imaotenu
Blessed are You, Adonai our God and God of our fathers and mothers”
After all these years
you still call my name,
Confidently, you stand on your own, yet
You also need me, so I come to you
It’s what a mother does
I was certain I’d never be Sarah ema, the matriarch
It’s no secret, I laughed at the messengers
declaring old woman, you will be a mother,
to birth a son, and a people
Naturally, I didn’t believe the impossible
Then Adonai, you, and the generations proved me wrong
teaching me to walk humbly into the unknown
Holding the triumphs and tribulations of our people
Insisting once again, joy does come in the morning*
So, I learned to replace hand wringing doubt
When the impossible appears before me
Now, naturally I am lingering longer in possibility
Throughout time my children, naturally, I see
Some of you stand, bend your knee, call out to me,
Some walk away, bend your knee to another, don’t even recall me
Some never call, choosing to fight viciously with one another
My hands no longer wring like when the messengers came
You are all my children,
I can’t heal your pains,
Each generation suffering your own,
but what I can do, naturally
is remind you, as a mother does
When the impossible is before you
Linger longer in possibility
Barkhu Atah Adonai, Oseh haShalom
Blessed are you, Compassionate One, Maker of peace
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” is found in Psalm 30:5
