I didn't walk by the synagogue today. My
daily walk
edited. I knew the cars would fill the
surrounding
streets, emotion urging out of the
tall wooden doors.
(You're inside, that I know, even if 510
miles away.)
I envy these holidays you keep. The offer of
celebration,
contemplation, atonement, and needed comfort
for your sorrow.
Rapt, I listened when you described the
prayers, the Torah,
casting off sin, and when, that first year
after you lost both parents,
the Rabbi touched your hand, coaxed your eyes
into his and said,
"You're a good son, still."
All the synagogues within forty miles sit
within a mile of
my house. I can't avoid this
reminiscence today, though I
try to place it in a new locket,
small and oval. As yet, untarnished.
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six foot skinny
Writer to the Stars
Zyskandar Jaimot
Mary Ann Farley
thatdamnbob
Grannypower
Salon.com
Comments
Thanks for your support.
I love your words and what they capture for me. I love your still intensity, like a coiled serpent, full of unnameable power, yet watching with no other object than that.
Stephen, you know I love when you read my stuff. Thank you.
Ray - so nice to have you here. Thank you, too.
Grif, no I can't help it, I guess. And yes, yes and no.
Brian, thanks. I didn't.
Rod, such a sweet and kind comment. Thank you, dearly.
Owl - thank you, of course. I always feel good when you read and leave a note.
Thanks, Michael. Thanks much.
I do think you should keep writing these.
But, c'mon, you can be smart-assed whenever you feel like it. I know some of this is not that good and a little too... well... too personal for most people. So, go ahead and be a smart-ass. I can take it. xo