Feminism then and now
First post from Beyond Walls


Again the ache
    floods my ribcage,
        wets my face with salt.

Missing you
    wells up in me:
        painful undertow.

The water is wide
    and I can't see you
        on the distant shore.

What use my hands
    if I can't touch you,
        my heart if it's alone?

When you're with me
    I can see new colors.
        All creation gleams.

What can I give you?
    My words, my offerings
        could never be enough.
I close my eyes.
    Maybe before I wake
        I'll see your face.

Jewish tradition is rife with poems of yearning written to God. I would feel chutzpahdik in the extreme were I to place myself alongside Yehuda Halevi or Solomon ibn Gabirol or the author of Yedid Nefesh (hear that poem sung by Nava Tehila, or read it in Hebrew and in Reb Zalman z"l's English translation at Open Siddur)...but perhaps this poem arises out of a similar yearning for the face of the beloved.

I think of this poem as the other side of the connection evoked in Your voice knocks. I seem to be writing a series of these; the third is already in progress. Stay tuned...