Elul Day 11, night reflections
Just three weeks away from Rosh Hashanah, and I am truly in awe of the power of grief. It is both elusive and tangible, slow and slippery, and consistently heavy, as if someone had poured wet cement into my chest. Grief presses on my heart and sneaks up behind my eyes.
Before I have words or insight, the heaviness is there. The Hebrew word for heavy is related to the word k'vod, which means honor or glory. This feels a little hard to reconcile while wrestling the undertow of grief, which hardly feels glorious. Maybe being present with our grief, letting it roll through us like a storm, will bring a glorious peace afterwards.
Bearing Witness
Tell me your story
I was
diagnosed with cancer at age 25
This was
my second
abortion I started
smoking crack
in eighth grade She left
me I make myself throw up my parents
are dead I’m afraid to let go
Opening the heart
like the ark in the sanctuary
inside are the sacred comforts
Each time more of the story is revealed
I gather up the pain
like the dead leaves of late
autumn
Every time the truth is told
I burn the leaves
each brown withered shadow
leaving its acrid scent
so we remember