Yom Kippur

A free verse

My heavy heart cries out to
a Universe that pulses in time,
echoes ringing through a blank cosmos,
the muffled voices of a million souls beseeching:
"Inscribe us in the Book of Life, 
let not our flesh yet become soil;
assure us hope and peace and prosperity,
show mercy to our brokenness."
In the distance, a muffled shofar sounds
its baritone notes ringing in my thumping ears.
We walk through gates of forgiveness,
one foot in front of the other,
a sea of bodies spread as far as the eye can see. 
I pause among the crowd. Turning back,
I stare into the swollen eyes of my transgressor. 
I give a smile. "I forgive you," I whisper, 
and walk on among the distended crowd.

Music: Avinu Malkeinu (Our Father, Our King)


This creative nonfiction piece is part of my ongoing series, “On Belief and Being,” exploring faith and its intersection with life and culture. To read more from this collection, click the link below:

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