Author:

Abstract

I am a Jew, 47 years old, of no special courage.

Everyday I try to feel myself in the soil and the stem,

in the light of ancient books and new worlds;

I try to sense the fingertip of G-d in the fragrance of my children's newly washed hair.

Everday, I try to sing with a spirit both measured and ecstatic, find places to worship where I can feel warmth that first attracted me toward my birth.

Scorn the beasts that covet the blood of my door.

I am a Jew.

Keywords: Jewish, poetry, suffering