[ segunda-feira, outubro 06, 2003 ]
A poem by Daniel Lasar
A sudden hum reverberates in my ears, jolting
me from my trance-like contemplation. . .
O G-d, I knew I could've, should've; I just didn't
have the time but this year will be different.
The noise, broken and scattered, pounding
and probing, gnaws at my conscience.
O G-d, I'm sorry I didn't do better; it wasn't easy, the
moment wasn't right, but this year will be different.
As though time has stopped, I am transfixed
upon the sharp sound tugging at my heart. . .
O G-d, I really wanted to, but I was reluctant to deal with what
other people would say but this year will be different.
The ever-strengthening blast grows longer, louder,
resonating to the depths of my soul. . .
O G-d, I know I said that last year, but I'll have more resolve;I had
a lot of things on my mind but this year will be different.
My pulse is racing, my eyes well up with water
as the ringing reaches a crescendo. . .
O G-d, You who decides who will live and who will die, I've made
a lot of mistakes in the past but this year will be different.
The rabbi slowly pulls the shofar away from his lips. Another
Yom Kippur has passed, and with it another chance
Hashem has given us to change, to grow, to be.
May this year indeed be different, for all of us.
L'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim!
Ana [10/06/2003 02:36:00 da tarde]