New Moons, Old Suns

Work ceases after sun goes down. Life goes to sleep. Why not work all night long. Because there is a time and a place. After sunsets we look for light in darkness and find it in dreams. No water except to cleanse. Staying up with thoughts. Reading blessings to forgive dishonor, no property, honor only during daylight. Opening wounds, begging for him to close them again--seeing people suffer as they eat kosher foods. Foods that should be healing but instead misused to cause trouble. Gardens growing for show--no harvesting. Sidewalks free of garbage--no one is out cleaning a street. Chimney sweepers sifting out coal dust from rooftops so raccoons nest in attics. People leaving homes, raccoons/mice moving in. Tree houses without children playing, girl pretends to cook pancakes in solar ovens without sunlight.

Paris is all in the mind. Alaska comes and goes. Hawaii, a trip never taken. She was in Russia, not Siberia. Visited Israel, did not live there. Kibbutz filled with beds on floors, living in tents in wilderness--wilderness not existing except in dense dry Jordan sands--there our tents are not allowed.

Tanakh being the only Book that can be handheld. Waiting for it to sing itself. Visiting only visible after hours in dreams. Hoping for a beginning to an end and an end to a beginning--getting only nighttime nightmares but waking up all over again to face a new moon and again an old sun.