They danced;
All circling in their way.
Hands together,
Weaving foot behind foot,
Bodies exhilarating.
And a couple would stop,
Passing her between them
Carefully, lovingly.
Then rejoicing!
Dancing, lightly from toe to toe
The weight of her
a feather, a delight.
And not one, but five!
How alive in their arms!
Pouring shouts of joy,
And the broadest smiles!
I watched. I had never held her.
Women hadn’t … But here…
The Rabbi, red cheeked and out of breath,
walked my way – and asked me,
(Would she ask me?)
“Would you like to dance with the TorahThe Five Books of Moses, and the foundation of all of Jewish life and lore. The Torah is considered the heart and soul of the Jewish people, and study of the Torah is a high mitzvah. The Torah itself a scroll that is hand lettered on parchment, elaborately dressed and decorated, and stored in a decorative ark. It is chanted aloud on Mondays, Thursdays, and Shabbat, according to a yearly cycle. Sometimes "Torah" is used as a colloquial term for Jewish learning and narrative in general.?”
My bones were 92 years old.
They had long stood and withstood.
My fingers reached out,
my heart longed…
Sounds grew dim.
Fingertips touched,
Palms rested on wood,
Hands grasped,
She rested on my shoulder.
She rested on my shoulder.
Like the babes I had born,
She lay there,
Satin against my cheek.
The scent of parchment rolled and unrolled,
Continents and footsteps in her wake.
And my head filled with words.
Words loved, so loved!
The voices of the kinderlach.
The chanting of the Koreh.
Low and high for Adonai.
Low and high for Adonai.
The words, I will never know, but know by heart.
The words of my people in the streams of my tears.
The pounding of my heart as I rocked her in my arms.
As I rocked her in my arms.
