Chaya Lester tells it like it is from the other side of the mechitza. A skirt on the outskirts of another ritual act.
It feels strange to start my writing on Hevria by admitting I'm speechless. But they wouldn't let me publish a niggun.
Oh emoji, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love emoji for the same reason I love dance. It gives me a way to communicate when words fail me, which they do, often.
I exist beyond biology....I am a warrior and my cause is honesty...I choose to feel everything.
I need you for my starry-eyed revolution, my sexy insurrection.
I am talking about a desirous uprising.
Who will join my love-army of Cosmic Carrots?
I don't want to be ashamed of anything I write. But I also don't want to write anything I'd be ashamed of, and I am.
A poem:
"You pray for silkworms and butterflies.
Dance, and your twisting wrists chafe against shackles.
Sing, and grey moths escape your open throat."
Eve lives inside my skin...she is primal, she is woman, she is curious, she is new, she is wild...Eve is not "The fallen slut that caused all the trouble," though oversimplifications of texts would have us believe that.
5775 - There's something so comforting in its sturdy symmetry. And Lord knows we need some comfort this year. So let's make the most of 5775's palindromic power with some spoken-word in its honor.
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