When the notes fall out of the sky into our ears
When we de-alphabetize the notes into a sacred order
When the moon reinvents itself
When the moon sings a song
When the moon shows up in everybody’s poems
When everybody starts to write poems
When poems and songs blend together like cookie dough
When we can see the eyes in the head of the month
When the head of the month and the moon and the poems
form a holy cabal
When the words slip away,
and our sins slip away
and our fear slips away
and our shame and humiliation slip away
and we’re left with
outfits made only of notes
Selah
Selah la la
Selah lai lai lai lai…
A Torah Poem A Week
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