Sunday, November 8, 2015

From the Notebook of J Michel

An unknowable name

The revelation of darkness was pressure surrounding me.
I began to weep like a child,
understanding that her searing touch
contains within it all that is unknown and unknowable.
The darkness has a name, unspeakable.
She is black on white, the fullness of dark, the empty
void waiting to be expressed in lights,
the mother for whom I wept
the night I sat in a tiny synagogue in Flatbush,
listening to the men
through holes in a divider,
vocalizing what I could not.
In silence, I confessed
as the darkness loomed:
God, I don’t know what you are.
And then, from the corners of the Universe
came a voice so heavy
with compassion it broke my heart.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to

to love me.”

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