eve of sabbath (a poem)

30 Aug

As shadows lengthen

Casting a rare glow

Of hazy dusk

As the sun

lazily bids farewell

To Friday noon

I feel as if the world

Has been set to slow motion

But yet as I grasp it 

With my fingers

The day slips away

With the sun’s dying rays

And I am left

To relinquish my hold

on the golden hues

Of Jerusalem.

Shabbat has arrived.

For some

Shabbat is queen dressed in finery

Preparations  loud and panicked

For some shabbat is an anaesthetist

Numbing bone tiredness of six days of grind

For some it is 

A young girl in beach clothes

Barefoot, laughing in abandon

For others a climber scaling

Mountain walls as sweat drips

100 feet below

Or possibly

A leisurely family lunch

In a noisy cafe

But true shabbat

Refuses to be defined 

Limited or contained

True shabbat

Is felt.Image




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