Ending a chapter is hard, especially
not knowing what the next will hold.
I write the book of my life with my deeds,
it reads from itself and my signature
is there plain as day, but I don't get
to read ahead. The Jewish year is ending.
There's plenty I don't mind relegating
to memory: every painful conversation,
what we came to call emotional root canal.
Hours sitting tense on the tiny couch
in the couples counselor's office -- not
his fault, but none of that is time
I'd choose to re-live. Let it be over.
A lot of the stories I used to tell
about who I was, who I thought I'd be --
those are over too, and their replacements
not yet known. Can I open my hands, let go
of every ending without losing my grasp
on the things that have no limit?
Love, given and received. Hope
for what might be coming. My gratitude
for you, vast as the Milky Way splashed
across heavens that seem to have no end.
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.