Poetry
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I go in with a list, but the late summer harvest says otherwise
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“We are the watchers along the shores/ guarding these waters, and those who pass through them”
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Gather together and hear, oh daughters Come listen to the wisdom of your Mothers:
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The murmuration of holy beings reveals this secret: strange fire surrounds the throne still amber flashes dancing before the Ancient One.
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In this no-man’s land the place between, narrow and deep bleached bones rise from desert waves. No amount of grain can make me whole. no flour, no Torah The wound opened before I was even born. Wounds in womb and cistern gashes on an altar, seizing and grasping at heels, voices in shadow and darkness…
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What does it mean to belong?
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How much can we truly know the other?
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Blessed are you Source of Being Who forbids and permits Opens and closes Binds and sets free Captives and brides. Who permits me to myself, releases me To my desire. I permit. I release. I let go and reclaim my body this sacred vessel this instrument of the divine The House of my soul, my…
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It is a tangled knot Strings woven within and around one another. A thread of blue runs through Techelet, the color of the sky To remind us of the heavens To remind us of the commandments A white thread, And a thread of crimson. A cat bats around the strings Playing them around one another…