The winding melody fell to rest
Upon the word Shalom
Small intake of collective breath
The doors of the arc slid apart
Brocade of Torah shone
Children taught the ritual ways
Led forth by the hidden choir
Known only to The Name
Taught through repetition
In rabbinic tones mellifluent
What may be interpreted
What is kept the same.
I kissed the hem of prayer shawl
Never coming quite so near
To the girl beside me, while
She was my young heart’s desire
The language that could reach her
More distant than the ancient one
We practised as we stood to sing
Side by side in unison.
That’s maybe where the Rabbis erred –
To found their synagogue
Upon prime real estate
With cricket fields opposite
To mix the girls in with the boys
And the adopted with the old
I would perhaps have stayed close to
A dress more modest and less bold.
The temple cracked and was torn down
Raised again far from the grounds
Where crowds, leather and willow play
The melodies refashioned
While the words remain unchanged
And by their threads I find my way
Through the maze of hidden years
Back to the rows where I once stood
And sing them as a child would.
Leave a Reply