DAY 26: FOR THE BONES


For the bones we carry along the way,
   the stories our grandparents told us, impressed
      like a seal on the wax of our hearts: give thanks.
For the taste of haroset which lingers for weeks.
   The rhythm of footsteps, the pull to move forward
      though the sea licks our ankles. The waters will part.

When we dance, when we notice the stars overhead
   and draw new constellations: the leader, the timbrel
      then our ancestors' struggles were worth it.
The path from constriction to covenant calls

-- keep on walking.

Today is the 26th day of the Omer, making three weeks and five days of the Omer. This is the 26th day of our 49-day journey from Pesach to Shavuot, liberation to revelation.

Today's poem was inspired by a prompt from last year's NaPoWriMo, the one for the 26th day of the month (since this is the 26th day of the Omer) -- to write a curtal sonnet.

DAY 25: EVEN IF


Even if this is the path you're meant to walk
no one promised pedicures and crumpets.
Don't you think the children of Israel struggled
under the weight of not-knowing what lay ahead?
Resting when the cloud of glory paused,
and marching when it lifted, no questions asked?
No door worth opening, no journey worth taking
can be wholly mapped in advance. No one knows
(except for God) what's on the other side.

This is the 25th day of the Omer, making three weeks and four days of the Omer. This is the 25th day of our 49-day journey from Pesach to Shavuot, liberation to revelation.

In the kabbalistic paradigm this is the day of netzach she'b'netzach, the day of endurance within the week of endurance. This poem is an acrostic; if you read vertically down the first letter of each line, you'll see its theme.

DAY 24: STONE WORK


            The only rule I know:
two stones on one,             one stone on two.
                Fit them snug
so they won't topple             after the first cycle
                of freeze and thaw.
If I could fly                 over New England
                low enough to look
through leafless trees             I'd see the earth
                seamed like a baseball,
old walls the stitches             holding her together.
                Some have slumped
over centuries,              granite and gneiss
                sliding gracefully
to the side, but             even in ruin
                the walls endure.
What will I build             in my lifetime
                to last as long?

Today is the 24th day of the Omer, making three weeks and three days of the Omer. This is the 24th day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

Today's poem was inspired by one of last year's NaPoWriMo prompts -- the invitation to write a poem about stone walls or arches.

The shape of today's poem is inspired by the "two stones on one" rule, and by the calligraphy of the Song at the Sea.

DAY 23: EVENING PRAYER


Afternoon's flat hot white
gives way to the electric green
of minarets against evening's blur.

Old city divides: here
crosses, there metal crescents.
Judaism's in the paving stones.

I press against the wall
to let the Land Rover pass,
the bike, the men with sidecurls.

I wish these dusty Coke bottles
were inscribed in two languages.
Harmony's a long way off.

Taste and see:
our story crackles
like pastry drenched with honey.

Torah is a fresh fig
ready to be parted and savored.
There's enough to share.

Long after every border blows away
like chalk dust on the wind
her waters will endure.

Today is the 23rd day of the Omer, making three weeks and two days of the Omer. This is the 23rd day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

Today's poem was sparked by one of Luisa A. Igloria's prompts from last year - the one from April 22, which suggested stanzas, moving through space, synonyms for light, the words "metal," "electric," and "blur," the present tense, references to two sweets, and a reference to a commercial from my childhood. (Can you find the reference to the commercial?)

In the kabbalistic paradigm, today is the day of gevurah she'b'netzach, the day of boundaries or borders or strength within the week of endurance. As I worked with Luisa's prompt, I found myself thinking about Jerusalem, and borders, and what endures.

22: ENDURANCE


They steamed south until pack ice closed in.
Faith in the journey kept spirits high.
Always knew they'd reach the promised land.
They'd trek across the expanse of white.

Faith in the journey kept spirits high.
The continent was a blank page before them.
They'd trek across the expanse of white
scribing holy writ with sledges and skis.

The continent was a blank page before them.
The ship groaned, then buckled.
Scribing holy writ with sledges and skis
they decamped to the ice, watched her go down.

The ship groaned, then buckled.
Any sane man knew they were lost.
They decamped to the ice, watched her go down.
Hauled their lifeboats over mountains of ice.

Any sane man knew they were lost.
But Shackleton wouldn't let them lose hope.
They hauled lifeboats over mountains of ice
and rowed 800 miles in the world's worst seas.

Shackleton wouldn't let them lose hope.
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield!
They rowed 800 miles in the world's worst seas
and he brought every man home alive.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield!
They'd steamed south until pack ice closed in.
He brought every man home alive.
Always knew they'd reach the promised land.

Today is the 22nd day of the Omer, making three weeks and one day of the Omer. This is the 22nd day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, between liberation and revelation.

In the kabbalistic paradigm, today begins the week of netzach, endurance. As I've written before, I can't hear the word "endurance" without thinking of Ernest Shackleton's Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914-17. That's what inspired today's poem.

21: GOOD HEART


Five roads diverged. Eliezer chose the path
of vision. Yehoshua chased friendship.
Yossi wanted to be a good neighbor.
Shimon sought to think ahead. But Elazar
craved a good heart, and their teacher said
I prefer the words of Elazar
because his choice includes all of yours.

A good heart. In gematria, good plus heart
-- seventeen plus thirty-two -- equals 49,
the days of the Omer. Three weeks in:
press a metaphysical stethoscope to your ribs
and listen to the lub-dub of your lev.
Tap with your fingers: is its tough exterior
softening like pliable red wax in the sun?

Can you carve grooves of gratitude, trace
the map of this meditation labyrinth
and leave an imprint? Make runnels in the clay
and see what flows through you. Instilling
a new habit takes a month of practice.
Four weeks remain before it's time to harvest.
What grows inside your four chambers?

Today is the 21st day of the Omer, making three weeks of the Omer. Today is the 21st day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, between liberation and revelation.

Gematria is Jewish number-math. In Hebrew, letters double as numbers, which means that every word also has a numerical meaning.

Lev is the Hebrew word for "heart."

In one Mussar model, today is the day to meditate on the quality of לב טוב, a good heart. That phrase reminded me of a Hasidic teaching about the importance of having a good heart, which I blogged some years ago on Lag b'Omer: The bonfire of the expansive heart.

DAY 20: WINDOWS ON THE WORLD


Imagine a house
where every window
shows a different world.

This one reveals
the root system
of an ancient tree.

This one, a mother
rocking her infant
back down to sleep.

A young man balances
a pallet of green coconuts
on his head.

A child offers
boxes of Chiclets
to stopped cars.

Here, a field
where corn sprouts
emerge, chartreuse.

A violinist busks
in a tiled subway station
and strangers applaud.

A man squeezes
pomegranates by hand,
sells their frothy juice.

Gnarled olive trees
overlook a pitted wall
built by giants...

The house is God's
and we are its windows.
Wash away dirt.

Become transparent.
Look! Such beauty
shines through you.

Today is the 20th day of the Omer, making two weeks and six days of the Omer. This is the 20th day of our 49-day journey from Pesach to Shavuot, from liberation to revelation.

Today's poem was inspired by an image from the podcast Welcome to Night Vale, of a house in which the windows looked out on another world, and also by teachings I first heard in 2003 (I think from Rabbi Moshe Aharon / Rabbi Miles Krassen) about how we are windows and teshuvah  (repentance or re/turn) is a process of clearing away grime.

DAY 19: SEASIDE


In a town by the sea, where the air is sweet with
dune-growing roses and licked lips taste like
salt, where the wind whips your prayer shawl into
the air like wings with a mind of their own, where
at dawn machines groom the abandoned beach,
readying the canvas of the day for whatever holy
inscriptions will be written by childrens' feet,
where the luminous sky cycles through periwinkle
and gold and the blue of hand-tied tzitzit, if you
can balance on one foot without wobbling and teach
Torah to everyone who asks, you might glimpse
the humble splendor of this nineteenth day tucked
inside the empty paper cup which once held pale
frozen lemonade, rattling across the expanse of sand.

Today is the 19th day of the Omer, making two weeks and five days of the Omer. This is the 19th day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

Today's poem was inspired by one of Luisa A. Igloria's prompts from last spring, the one in memory of Gabriel Marcia Marquez.

DAY 18: SECRET PRAYERS


Eighteen days now
we've broken in our walking shoes.

The world is scribed
with secret prayers.

Tucked in today's pockets:
slips of paper which read to life!

This eighteenth day
is a shiny pewter spigot, waiting.

The waters above yearn
to join the living waters below

new life cascading
into our hands.

Today is the eighteenth day of the Omer, making two weeks and four days of the Omer. This is the 18th day of our 49-day journey from Pesach to Shavuot, from liberation to revelation.

Hebrew letters double as numbers. The Hebrew word for "life" -- חי –– is numerically equivalent to 18. That's what sparked this poem.

DAY 17: TASTE AND SEE


Remember the first slice of bread
after seven days of matzah --
how the sawtoothed knife cut through
the airy crumb against the drag
of crust, steam rising
from the newly-baked loaf:
manna after a week of hardtack.
What will Torah taste like
after seven weeks of counting?

Today is the seventeenth day of the Omer, making two weeks and three days of the Omer. This is the 17th day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

In the kabbalistic framework, today is the day of tiferet she'b'tiferet, balance and harmony within balance and harmony (it's the day of tiferet within the week of tiferet.) Today's poem didn't arise out of that fact, but I think there's something special about today being the day of balance and harmony squared, so I figured I'd mention it.

(Of course, I mean "today" in the Jewish sense -- the day which began on Monday evening at sundown and ends Tuesday evening at sundown -- so those of you who receive these blog posts by email as East Coast evening approaches will be reading this poem as the day of tiferet squared approaches its end.)

DAY 16 - SHOE SEEKER


How much of your life will you spend seeking shoes?
Hunting the keys you're certain you left in a pocket,
sunglasses resting unnoticed on top of your head?
Meanwhile the Holy One hides in plain sight.

Practice moderation even in your boot rack. Let habit
guide you to glide through routine, scuff on your sandals
while ice rattles in your glass. With the minutes you glean
say thanks for the big bang still unfolding.

Pedestrians carry bright umbrellas like nodding tulips.
Thread a path between puddles. Balance kindness
and determination: everything else is commentary.
If you can't find your shoes, then go barefoot.

Push your cart through the cluttered aisles.
Don't forget the intangibles: how will you nourish
the part of you that thrives not on bread but on song?
The sages say: what you're seeking is already here.

Today is the sixteenth day of the Omer, which makes two weeks and two days of the Omer. This is the 16th day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

In the Mussar tradition, today is a day for focusing on the quality of "Apply business acumen to living." While I don't resonate with everything in this essay by R' Noah Weinberg, one line from the essay sparked this poem: "How much of your life will you spend being a shoe seeker?"

DAY 15: FIFTEEN


A hidden name of God.
    Steps ascending to the Temple,
        each with its own psalm.

Words in the blessing
    which places God's Name
        on the people, opening channels.

Morning thank-yous, each
    hinting at the Exodus:
        once, a plague of darkness --

now we see clearly. Once
    slaves forbidden to stand tall --
        now our spines are straight.

Gates we opened two weeks ago
    passing through each adorned arch
        moving from degradation to joy.

Today is the fifteenth day of the Omer, making two weeks and one day of the Omer. This is the 15th day of our 49-day journey from Pesach to Shavuot, liberation to revelation.

In Hebrew, letters also double as numbers. The simplest way to write the number fifteen spells Yah, a holy name of God. (For this reason we often write 9 and 6 instead of 10 and 5, so as not to be using that holy name in vain.) Fifteen is a number with deep significance in Jewish tradition.

DAY 14: FORTNIGHT


Two weeks out of Egypt, were our ancestors
footsore? First, the jubilation of skipping town
without even a sourdough starter --
then sandal-blisters, manna, and fear.
We don't know where this invisible God
will take us. We don't know how long
the walk will be, how safe the passage.
We don't know who we're becoming.
Then again, neither does God -- options
are infinite. Can we trust our guides
to find us water in the desert, wisdom
from the living well? The pillar of cloud lifts.
Strike camp. Take heart. Trust the unseen.
You're already different from when you began.

Today is the fourteenth day of the Omer, making two weeks of the Omer. We have traveled 14 days in our 49-day journey from Pesach to Shavuot, liberation to revelation.

When I thought of the number fourteen, I immediately thought of the sonnet, that classic 14-line form. This is an untraditional sonnet; it has neither rhyme nor meter, though I hope that some of the internal assonance will make up for that.

My favorite translation of the name God gives to Moshe -- Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh -- is "I am becoming Who I am becoming." God is always-becoming, and so are we.

DAY 13: GENERATION


Of all the outbuildings
the loneliest is the workshop.

The round stone barn remains
sweet with hay, the meetinghouse

patiently awaits the next meeting
but the woodworking tools

miss the touch of weathered hands.
They're still bound in concert,

leather straps and belts, but
no one lifts the floodgate

to send meltwater churning through.
Sometimes I envy a life

of constant trembling before God.
That's not a non sequitur:

hands to work and hearts to God
was the intention

with which they shaped oval baskets
from gently bent wood,

gathered eggs, milked the cows
painted their buildings bright.

They believed redemption was at hand.
When we walk daily through the Sea of Reeds

when we love each other wholly
do we glimpse their rapture

feel echoes of their trembling
in our own pounding hearts?

Today is the thirteenth day of the Omer, making one week and five days of the Omer. This is the 13th day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

In the kabbalistic paradigm, today is the day of yesod she'b'gevurah, foundation or generation within boundaried strength. I found myself thinking about generations, and about generation of power, and that reminded me of the laundry/machine shop at Hancock Shaker Village.

The penultimate verse hints at a Shaker hymn which I learned from Rabbi David Ingber of Romemu and which I sometimes use at my shul. It's called More Love.

DAY 12: MEDITATE ON THEM


Run your fingers along red leather spines
embossed in gold. Read their titles like Braille.

Cradle the mantled scroll in your arms
like a sleeping child, more precious

than gold. Weigh the silver breastplate
in your hands, engraved pomegranates rattling.

The cherry-wood reading pointer fits
in your palm like a custom-made wand.

Even the words are beautiful, curve
and slash of calligraphy adorned with crowns.

Now remember all of this treasure pales
beside the real Torah: not the scroll, not

even the rounded runcibles of Rashi script
but the broadcast which flows from the source.

Deliberately tune your dials to God's station.
Delight in that. Taste the parchment's honey.

Read the Torah of the geese overhead.
Waltz with the Torah in every step.

Today is the 12th day of the Omer, which makes one week and five days of the Omer. Today is the 12th day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, between liberation and revelation.

According to one Mussar teaching which maps the days of the Omer to the qualities named in Pirkei Avot, today is the day for focusing on Deliberation, which they name in Hebrew as yishuv hamikra. That webpage links this day with Psalm 1 verse 2, אִם בְּתוֹרַת יְיָ, חֶפְצוֹ;    וּבְתוֹרָתוֹ יֶהְגֶּה, יוֹמָם וָלָיְלָה -- "That one's delight is in the Torah of Adonai, and that person meditates on it day and night."

"Torah," of course, can mean much more than just the Five Books of Moses. That's the idea which gave rise to this poem.

DAY 11: TREE POSE


The way to hold tree pose:
focus on a still point
and let your eyes go soft.
Slow your breathing.
Grow roots from heel and toe.

The redwoods endure.
Imagine the cross-section:
here's the fall of the Temple,
the writing of the mishna,
the 20th century's wars.

What's in your rings?
Years of spiritual thirst,
years of plenty...
And how did your roots reach
the living well?

Draw water up from your depths.
Torah percolating
in the xylem and the phloem
just beneath the skin.
What flowers will you bloom?

Today is the 11th day of the Omer, which makes one week and four days of the Omer.  This is the eleventh day of our 49-day journey from Pesach to Shavuot, from liberation to revelation.

In the kabbalistic paradigm, today is the day of netzach she'b'gevurah, the day of endurance within the week of boundaried strength. Endurance made me think of redwoods; and trees plus boundaries made me think of the xylem and phloem through which water brings nutrients from a tree's roots to its crown.

DAY 10: JOURNEY


The tenth day:
fortune cookie says, find balance
within constraint. Even bound
to the count, you're free
to stargaze while you wait.
Are we there

yet? Do we even know where there
is? Once a cloud by day,
a fire by night showed us when to wait
and when to leap, the balance
between movement (free)
and stillness (bound).

As we trek toward Sinai, we're bound
to have days when there's
nothing can stop us, we're free
to dance -- and days
when mud sucks our shoes, we lose balance
-- even fall backwards. Wait

and discern the path ahead, the weight
of ancient trauma falling away. Bound
like lambs across the hilltops! Balance
with the patient angels. There
will come, I promise you, a day
when we encamp around the mountain, free

to receive transmission. Free
yourself from expectation. Wait
until you see the voice that day!
You don't have to believe it now, bound
by old scripts. Once you're there
harmony will hang in the balance

of old and new, balance
of rearview mirror and windshield free
from roadsalt's cloud. There's
much to be said for learning how to wait,
how to live within the bounds
of celebrating what God has made today.

Balance urge to run, willingness to wait.
The trip is free. Blessings abound.
Trust you'll be there on the 50th day.

Today is the tenth day of the Omer, making one week and three days of the Omer. Today is the tenth day on our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

In the kabbalistic paradigm, today is the day of tiferet (balance and harmony) within the week of gevurah (boundaries, strength, judgement.)

Today's poem is a sestina, one of my favorite poetic forms. (If you click on the "sestina" tag in the sidebar you'll see the many others which I've posted here over the years.)

Ten days down, 39 to go. What is the journey like for you so far?

DAY 9: SONG AT THE SEA

a psalm of transformation.

Can you still hear the song at the sea?
Remember the melody, soaring.
We all walked together, my hand on your shoulder.
You gained a new name in the journey.

Remember the melody, soaring?
You carried your ancestors' bones
and gained a new name in the journey.
Sing now the song of your wholeness.

You carried your ancestors' bones.
Sing peace for the cousins who bicker,
sing them the song of your wholeness.
Reveal your yearning without fear.

Sing peace for the cousins who bicker.
This is the gift: a channel with walls.
Reveal your yearning without fear.
Pour out your love. The container will hold.

This is the gift: a channel with walls.
Don't let the wonder recede.
Pour out your love. The container will hold.
How did you feel when your waters parted?

Don't let the wonder recede.
We all walked together, my hand on your shoulder...
How did you feel when your waters parted?
Can you still hear the song at the sea?

Today is the ninth day of the Omer, making one week and two days of the Omer. Today is the ninth day of our journey from Pesach to Shavuot, liberation to revelation.

As I wrote this, I was thinking about how it feels to be after the seder, trying to hold on to the spiritual high even as time keeps pulling us away. Also about the Song at the Sea. This went through a few revisions, and around draft 3 I realized that it wanted to be a pantoum and it all came together.

DAY 8: WHAT IT MEANS TO PRAY

The judge sees through you like an X-ray.
Let your heart give up its secrets.
This is what it means to pray:

to discern the subtle workings of
—let's call it soul, although the word
is imprecise, and may evoke

incense and crystals. I gravitate
toward this old-fashioned leather strap
twined ten times around my arm

but use the tools
that help you pry your ribs apart
and offer up what beats inside.

Listen: everyone's reciting
through time and space
Your glory shines, Majestic One.

Today is the eighth day of the Omer, making one week and one day of the Omer. This is the 8th day of our 49-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, liberation and revelation.

In working on today's poem, I found myself paying particular attention to rhythm. This is a good one to read aloud.

This second week of the Omer, in the kabbalistic paradigm, is the week of gevurah -- boundaried strength or discipline. That drew me to the image of God as Judge, which in turn reminded me that the Hebrew word which means to pray, להתפלל / l'hitpallel, literally means to judge oneself or to discern oneself.

The final two lines are Reb Zalman z"l's rendering of the Hebrew words which follow the shema, baruch shem k'vod malchuto l'olam va'ed, which we recite aloud only on Yom Kippur. Though we do sing them aloud in the prayer Ana B'Koach, which some have the tradition of reciting after counting the Omer each day.

Re: "I gravitate / toward this old-fashioned leather strap..." -- that's a reference to tefillin, about which I have blogged many times before.

DAY 7 - BLESSING


When I say that we're blessed --
I mean we're loved the way we are,
but what do those words mean to you?
(How do you feel when I say Adonai?)
Do the prayers actually describe our
relationship with the One we call God,
whether source or force, wellspring or ruler?
The terms are imprecise. None of
them could part the Sea of Reeds. The
only thing I know is, the universe
is expanding and my heart with it. You
know the song that says we're enough? Make
a habit, sing it every day. Each of us
is a reflection of the holy:
not despite our differences but with
them. Love the One with all your
heart, with all you are. All the mitzvot
add up to this: every sinew in the body and
every day of the year, hear the command
to love. The obligation's on us
to ready ourselves for the download, to
make these forty-nine days count.
Can you see Sinai from here? The
mountain awaits. Bring the Omer.

Today is the seventh day of the Omer, making one week of our journey from Pesach to Shavuot, from liberation to revelation.

Today's poem takes the form called a golden shovel. If you read the last word of every line, you get "Blessed are You, Adonai our God, ruler of the universe; You make us holy with Your mitzvot, and command us to count the Omer" -- the traditional blessing recited alongside the actual counting of each day.

"All the mitzvot / add up to this: every sinew in the body and / every day of the year" -- in Jewish tradition, it is taught that there are 613 mitzvot (connective-commandments) in the Torah. Tradition further says that there are 248 positive mitzvot, one for each of the bones and sinews in the body, and 365 negative ones, one for each day of the year. Whether or not there are actually 248 parts of the human body, I love the idea that the mitzvot can be related to every day of our lives and to all that we are.