That post Hava Nashira funk
when people are crowding your space on the plane ride home
and you don’t know whether to be annoyed or give them a hug
That post Hava Nashira funk when
you’ve finally got back to your proper cup of coffee
and you realize that Oconomowoc coffee isn’t all that bad
and you’ve had coffee that is all that bad, so you know.
That post Hava Nashira funk when
you’ve got eighty hours of recordings of every single moment
including at least twelve of just people breathing and
how about that service that you went to that you’re
pretty sure was just wind and Yoga positions.
And sure you’ve got 6 different versions of that same
new song from the Galilee that sounded like it was from Hawaii
and you are prepared to listen to every one of them, and
every other recorded moment, over and over
in your ears, in your car, in other people’s cars if you ride share
maybe you’re on a train right now, I don’t know,
so you can take Oconomowoc home with you
and be as spiritually funky as you want without
the benefit of your 200 other lovists (thank you Ellen for reminding us of that word)
lifting you up in the roundest holiest room you know.
That post Hava Nashira funk
when we’re, like a Havdallah moment, as far away from the next one
as we can possibly be.
Here’s an idea: Let’s invite the neighbors into the room so
when it comes down to sunrise at the lake, they’ll just join us
with their voices instead of calling the police.
Let’s have a dance party to end all dance parties and then
let’s have another so we’re L’dor vadoring this funk forever.
Let’s sit in our room and sing whatever we want
so our friends long lost and short lost and not lost
can float in and swirl around us not like angels
but as the angels they were when their bodies were with us.
Let’s keep our promise to not just sit in the room and
sing the songs, but bring it home, let’s bring each other home
Let’s do the work. Let’s fix the world with our holy funk
Hava Nashira
I will bring it home
I will bring you home
You are home.