A quiet morning moment of reflection at the Western Wall. (Photo by Rahel Jaskow.)
The Ritual
I wake. Across my Face I drag a Blade
And rinse myself. The Soap flows down the Drain.
I dress, and kiss She Who Must Be Obeyed,
And then I’m off to face the daily Pain.
But first I stop to say the ancient Prayers,
Enwrapped in Tallit and Phylacteries,
And there I praise the One who heals all Cares,
He Who created Ocean, Birds, and Trees.
’Tis strange. Though my Belief in Him’s not strong
This daily Practice comforts, gives me Peace.
“May we do what is right, and not what’s wrong,
And may the Day when Hate and Bloodshed cease,
Come soon.” It’s for these Things that I must pray;
Know you a better Way to start the Day?
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5 comments:
That's one odd-looking colander.
-ls/cm
I very much get the sense you do your daily practice just as much for yourself as you do for The One. Not a judgment, but an observation. The bit about your faith being nor strong spoke to me, as well. Along the way, life has chipped away at the veneer I had, of faith, rendering me now a skeptic, a skeptic receptive to being convinced again someday. Perhaps.
Oh, wow, Steve... thank you for using my photo!
This one, I print.
Best thing I read in months, of all I've read EVERYWHERE.
Few words, but so deep and so honest. God must be so pleased. And I will repeat them, early morning and late night, when I say my own short French prayer to my Creator.
"Cher Bon Dieu - Bonjour (ou Bonne Nuit) Merci pour votre amour et vos soins. Aidez les gens qui souffrent. Et, je vous en supplie, donnez-nous tous la paix."
Anytime I start thinking of blogging as a waste of time, I'm going to remember what you wrote here, Claude... and I will know that there really is a point to all this. Thank you for making me smile today!
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