Missing Hava Nashira 2018

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I wonder if our soul’s going to sound like rain today?

Shira Kline

It’s the first week of June, Van Nuys routine again.
I got to remember what sleep was, and the voice

I use to talk is lower than it is the rest of the year.
The cats don’t seem to mind, and the coffee I just made

while admittedly better than anything I’ve tasted in Ocnomowoc
isn’t caffeinating away my desire to be back in Oconomowoc.

I’m going to be inside all day, but I check the weather anyway
as I wonder if my soul is going to sound like rain today.

I’m thinking about the conversation from Havurah.
How, like Burning Man, you shouldn’t make any big

life decisions after Hava Nashira. Don’t quit your job.
Don’t sell your house, thinking you’re going to live

your life sustained only on the warmth created
by a niggun. Your new mortgage payment simply

your arms around a fellow sweet singer of Israel.
You will not be able to buy groceries, simply by looking

at the cashier and saying fist, spears, claw, starfish.
Imagine if we could pay all our bills just with harmony.

We’d be the richest people the world has ever known.
We’d solve every problem with our songs.

Food would pour out of our aleinus,
Clean water a mere Yah Ribon away.

Guns would only be used to change slides (pew pew pew)
The losses of our community felt always and Beyond.

We are the in-climate weather. We are voices spread apart
by oceans and miles, but connected by a worldwide Tornado of love.

And when we go to sleep tonight, after the last post-open mic
rave of love, loops the last sunrise over the lakes of our longing…

if we go to sleep tonight
Don’t forget to close your eyes . . .

These poems are offered free for your enjoyment. If you use them as part of an event, meeting, educational or liturgical setting, please consider tipping the author.

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