Your Honor, I don't need to tell you
where I've fallen short: you've seen
the times when I chose silence because
I couldn't bear to stand up for myself...
No one would blame you if you told me
I'm not worth rehabilitating, not after
all these years of ignoring my needs
and pretending I didn't hear your voice.
I lift my gaze to yours expecting lightning
but instead I get the hazel waters
of my childhood river, warm and gentle.
You don't fault me the time it took.
You tell me I wasn't put here only
to weep. You wipe my brimming eyes.
I'm participating again this year in #blogElul, an internet-wide carnival of themed posts aimed at waking the heart and soul before the Days of Awe. (Organized by Ima Bima.) Read #blogElul posts via the Elul tag; you might also enjoy my collection of Elul poems which arose out of #blogElul a few years ago, now available in print and e-book form as See Me: Elul poems.