Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. John Donne

Batter my heart, O Adonai, Lord in all time and all space,
The one God who rules alone as glittering idols crumble into the nothingness that they are,
Take my soul as I live, for as it silently breaks away, a remnant survives inside of me.

O God, I know that that in the ocean of loss, mine are but as a few tears,
Men have endured far more than me, for far longer,
And yet, I too, have come to sanctify Your great name in my own small way.  

Lord, when you laid out the foundations of the earth, my family was not meant to have a name nor a memorial,
Nor was it meant to be worthy, or unworthy, of your people’s recognition, much less, O Lord, of your divine immanence.
How amazing, O Adonai, that You have indeed shown your face to this family!

As it is said in your holy name, “I form the light, and create darkness:  I make peace, and create evil: I, the Lord, do all these things.” 
O God, You have indeed acted upon this small family in our small time,
As You have many myriads of others.

But I know only of my own.   I know of death and more death, of loss and more loss.
I know of tears and more tears, and of longing for what is no more, and can never be again.  
O Adonai, I cannot bring back what You have taken any more than I can fix my own shattered heart.

O Lord, we cannot make our family whole again any more than we could do other great miracles in your name.
O God who sits in my judgment, I cannot worship You as I once did, in the innocence of my unknowing youth, as I was then told without yet understanding, “it is very hard to be a Jew.”