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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Rosh Hashanah opens to the page
On which is writ, for good or ill, our fate.
Still wrestling with angels, we engage,
Harrowing our hearts, our destined state.
However, "we" encompasses us all,
As though we were but droplets in a wave
Suspended on its journey to the shore,
Hard put to any single droplet save.
And so we pray not only for ourselves,
Nor only for our family, friends, or tribe:
All must be our congregation, else,
Having thus lost hope, we won't survive. |
