The King, Her Father

This time is different than the last, she is standing here before Him.
The Hebrew words drown her face, covering any trace of human standing before the King.
She is shaking of the awe that is rising up inside of her.
Don’t let this be it, she has so much more
to shape and create
to transform and put back together.
She was holding onto the world,
But she felt the world running from her.
And just like that it began to slip…

Who by water, who by fire?
Her words, her days, her moments are being scaled.

who by hunger, who by thirst?
Look at all that she has done, look at all that she has damaged.

Who by earthquake and who by drowning?
the people she had hurt – how she hurt herself.

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Who will be safe and who will be torn?
look at all the distance that she created,
from her true self and from the King.

The vessel inside shatters.
She bends trying to pick up the broken pieces of what she thinks is her.
Trying to glue them back together with her words, her tefillot.
The ram’s horn is raised and as it bleeds loudly
instead of gluing all the pieces that lay fractured –
Each piece began to float away as she gave her goodbyes
piece by piece disappearing
what will she have left to fill? she thinks.
Every tekiah, every teruah –
the pieces fly away with each sound.
And just when she was standing with nothing left –
Her Father gives her a new vessel, taking off his crown.
And she is left there standing before Him, different than the last – this time.

Image source: Tzipora Lifchitz