The prisoners shall go free--
I take their names
And pin them to my wrist.
I serve as a savior
on Mount Zion for shadows.
They pass me on their way through the veil.
The prisoners shall go free--
But not me.
I am locked
In a Torah of commandments
that tell me how to
pray and what to wear, and
when I must not touch a man.
My Messiah
would know if I grasped his robe
and so I
clasp my hands behind my back.
He is a warlike God.
He protects me with
Jots and tittles and hedges.
I read and I understand and I err.
Each misstep is noticed,
But when I cry, I sob alone.
Unheard
and unredeemed
in a cloud of witnesses.
October, now with 40% boos
1 week ago
2 comments:
I know you posted this a long time ago, but I want you to know that I think it's beautiful.
thank you, sweetie--thinking of you.
Post a Comment