A Poem for Yom Kippur, and a gift to Aharon and Saraj
As leaves begin to fall,
and tree sap stills,
As the sun no longer tries to ride
The highest crest of hills.
As now we gather, four quarters, one
around your hearth, the Beloved one.
We bring each one, our own pure light,
wrapped in sheaths of human blight.
Yet in our at-one-ness these sheaths we shed,
The blood of our wounds, the common thread.
On this day of at-one-ment, my brother dear,
It’s a blessing to have you and your beloved near.
May blessings reign over all whom you love
And may we gather here, below as above.
Ulm – 29 september 2017