Standing stiffly solid but mottled as a
mistress offhandedly accepting paper prayers
placed where our regrets continue to nest empty.
Why me words whispered on fallen knees…trite.
Incense seductively surrounds cold stone
compelling cravings for second and
third chances. Bleeding
deep mind-cuts are opening intensely.
I came to you as gentle as baby’s breath
but was torn piecemeal out of me.
Each shred examined,
used and stuck like a stamp on
letters to unwelcoming destinations.
Sighs unexpectedly chase our loss
reassuring the downtrodden
and naysayers: the wall remains static
on Yom Kippur. Wailers stand silent
before hard and slippery walls.
I now bounce radiantly through every kind of light.