Every year I write a new poem for Rosh HaShanah to share with the community I lead in Fire Island Pines. Below is this year’s poem. I’m also including the poem from 2014 since I never posted it last year.
Rosh HaShanah in the Pines, 2015/5776
The sea pushes back off the shore,
yielding to gravity with a sigh,
not a leaving but a letting go,
a retreat into its own deep fullness.
The sun relinquishes its hold on the sky
only to rise once more at daybreak
as the tide rolls back in,
a different kind of letting go,
an unspooling across the expanse.
And we creatures of earth are granted a fresh start,
a chance to gather the debris
and shape a whole new world.
Wholeness is a kind of holiness,
the stasis of perfection.
But brokenness demands re-creation,
a churning cycle of endings and beginnings,
the act of pulling hope and brightness from the wreckage,
taking the jagged shards and making of them,
if not wholeness, a new sort of sacred splendor.
(Copyright (c) 2015 by Hara Person)
Rosh HaShanah in the Pines, 2014/5775
We gather, poised at the edge of time,
hearts teeming with intention.
Like the tide, we expand and contract,
unsure of how to proceed.
A tenuous new moon tilts in a Tishrei sky,
while below the ocean roars.
Trees dip and sway in the darkness.
Wind rolls in off the sea.
Swells churn dangerously
as the deluge approaches landfall.
Accept our burdened hearts, we plead,
our broken spirits,
our yearnings for redemption.
Like the moon, let us begin the work
of rebuilding our selves anew.
Help us find shelter from the storm.
(Copyright (c) 2014 by Hara Person)
