some poems

by shira

Sunday Mornings and Tuesday Afternoons

The table outside of the sanctuary
Held the calendars and arm cuffs
To tell when torah study was
To give blood to our brothers and sisters

The table outside of the sanctuary
Was dusty and my hands picked up the dead bits
Of storytelling that the wind had sentenced to sleep
So when I wiped all the words on my pants
The rabbi scorned me
Said I was too proud
Said I was too slight
To recall any ancestor’s words

So I ran outside
And waited for my ride
And Mrs. Fagel found me on the bench
Said there was a special job for me
A bird had died on the front drive
And only I could pick him up
The only one left after Hebrew school was over
So I got a bag
And Ben just stared at me
I never spoke up in class
But I could handle a cadaver





I Was in the Choir

I never thought I’d sing
In the synagogue choir
I asked to be in it
After everyone had quit

Years later
After my Bat Mitzvah
After Hasha heard me sing
When I shook and I chanted each word
So nervous, the bima had made me,
She asked me to be in the choir
To sing on the high holy days

I sang a solo on the New Year
I sang it and atoned
While people bowed their heads, I held mine up
So that they all could hear me sing
About proper meditation
I felt guilty singing
While everyone was silent
And keeping my eyes raised to watch the conductor
Was a sin in my eyes, so I never looked up

Yihyu l’ratzon imrei fi
Oseh shalom bim’romav
Hu yah aseh shalom aleinu
Ve’al kol yisrael
Ve’al kol yoshvei teivel y’imru amen





Apples and Honey

I dreaded the longest service
Rosh Hashanah morning
About 4 hours of chanting
2 hours of page turning
While we stood and sat again and again

My congregation was never that big
Except for a single service
Since we were welcoming the sweet New Year
And apples and honey would be served

The first time I ever got it
Was last year in September
When the part of the day came
That always made me so uneasy

Where we could get on our knees if we wanted to
And pray to the highest of everything
Only once a year was this gesture
Ever suggested

For the first time
I tried it
Lowered myself to the ground to see
If there were anything I’d been missing

Any sort of recollection
Gets me low again
I never knew how much I felt
That I should bow to anything