For Michele

Toes tap, joints crack,
A smile twists and is turned.
Muscles twitch, mind slacks,
Grace of body unlearned.

Tefillin wraps, on a stained hand,
Lips move with prayer unspoken.
Tzitzit fall on the cracked land,
A fast too soon is broken.

Thousands chant to a beating drum,
Screams of hate and plunder,
Where once our people fell by sword,
Or gas or flames or hunger.

When God moved from this world,
And contracted himself alone,
When all that was and will be yet,
Is devoid of strength to atone.

As His presence once suffused our lives,
In body and soul He created,
Yet we now await His return,
Imperfect, unclean, hated.

Yet there’s hope to heal these wounds,
To restore this body as pure,
To make my prayer speak again,
To quell what we endure.

In this place, in which I stand,
From this hour and time,
May God’s strength return to this world,
Now, forevermore, sublime.