Every morn, a wedding proposal
Out of shackles of bondage
A procession on golden sands
A tamed sun, lashes softened by clouds
A shimmering night, audienced by flickering stars
Sweet mana showering our covered heads.
The cracklings of matzha beneath my molars
Resonate as the groom's step on shattered glass.
I hear your whisper:
"That which is broken can never be perfect again.
Let only your bread be unleavened,
only your wine cup broken
But bring me your spirit leavened, your love whole."
The wet dough can break and reform anew
But the cracker
once split into unequal halves
Can be made almost whole again
Through games of hide and seek
The searching for Your face in hidden flames
The march toward You through your peoples' hearts
Sometimes dryer than the desert air.
Though tired, backs bent
We've walked willingly, out of Eden
some mocked us, trashed and broke the crystals of our homes
they see only a mirage
as You lead us through these hot sands
to the eternal spring atop a mount
awaiting Your Written Promise.
Until then, I am a free bird that flies
above mediocrity, below perfection.
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