Type: Poem

My friends will stand // among the trees // saying Kaddish.

What begins as a tangle of threads in my hands becomes the connection to creation, forming visions behind my eyes, images within my heart, sounds inviting the sacred.

I dry her hair // gently, squeezing over her scalp // as she used to do for me

We know how to protect a child // from hostile eyes, // and there will be more deliveries on this journey.

At sunset the oryx finds water inside shrubs. // Magician of the desert, it links its straight horns to the sky.

He confesses his family’s sins to whom all praise is due // He requests divine forgiveness, then declares TITHARU! // The kohanim and the people who witness what was said // Declare “Baruch Shem Kavod Malchuto L’Olam Va’ed.”

Both birds of prey // Both live at my river // but only the vultures visit my home.

When hope is crushed, // Is it like clods of earth ground to mud, sticking in foulness to my boots as I walk?

A range of ideas to help a mother create a ritual for her child’s first period

“Soul vessels, with gods’ breath subsumed, / shatter in tessellated shards of light—”