It must have been 5 PM in Babylon
When,
As you were hurrying to prepare for Shabbos,
You heard something
Not quite right—
An unnerving rustling in the bushes outside,
The quarreling murmurs of children,
Yours, surely,
Who’s else could they be?
And so,
Though you needed this moment of peace
After a back-breaking week of work,
You stepped out of the shower
And wrapped yourself in two towels,
One on your body
And one on your head
(for while I do not know your gender—
I am certain that you have long hair).
After frantically stepping
Down the stairs from your front door,
Past your brand-new mailbox
And the freshly-painted white fencing
That surrounds your house, knee-height,
You took a moment to gather your bearings
And traced the sound of your children’s voices
Down the other side of the Garden.
And it was only then—
In a moment of pause,
That you felt the cool breeze
On your skin,
Breathing like a soul
Against your bare upper back:
Where, in your caring haste,
You forgot to dry off.
And it was only then—
Your skin transformed to gooseflesh,
Your eyes affixed
To the dancing flowers in your front yard
That you had understood the wonder
Of what you had done,
Had taken in the beauty
Of the home that you had built,
Looked up to the disappearing sun, eyes wide,
And let out a stunned ‘very good’.
To be embodied is Divine,
So I thank you for the gift of my body—
Whose skin feels the breeze in the cool of the day,
Whose limbs climb ladders
And raise up fallen hands,
Whose days are filled with pleasures and pains,
And so take part
In your Divine mystery.
בָּרוּךְ אָתָּה יהוה רוֺפֵא כָל בָּשָׂר וּמַפְלִיא לַעֲשׂוֺת
Blessed are You, HashemLit. The Name, referring to the ineffable name of God; used as a substitute for any of the more sacred names of God when not speaking in prayer. Particularly used in conversation., Healer of all flesh, Worker of wonders.
