Selichot

I am asleep, but my heart is waking, slowly
To the sound of a still, small voice
My alarm clock, going off at 3:30 in the morning
I dress slowly, try to focus, but my body longs for cool sheets and soft pillows

The streets have an eerie emptiness
Like when I arrived here
At 5 am
While everyone here was still in bed
The usually bustling, no crowded, streets of the shuk
Are totally empty
A ghost town
Like on Shabbat
But different
I feel the pulse of building energy, of anticipation

On the small balcony where my knees barely fit into the small space between the pew and the wall,
I hold my cup of hot tea
I want to be sleeping, but the music pulls me out of a waking dream
El Ado-o-n Ha-se-lee-chot

I hold my fist over my heart
The voice of my beloved is knocking
“Open to me”
But how can I?
With all of my imperfections, flaws, mistakes I have made
So many, blocking the way

Then He cries, begs
Calls me loving names, tells me I’m perfect the way I am
Each shofar call arousing His compassion
Outside, the sun rises illuminating the dew drops on the buildings
The dampness of the night still clings in the air
As we wander through the empty streets
Looking for You among the borekas and cappuccinos

Teshuva part 2

I am stumbling from the dizziness
Of this calendar It keeps going in circles
As I try to walk in a straight a line
Like in “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”
I grasp blindly in some direction
Reaching for an unknown, unseen place
To pin down the end of the story, make a complete picture

I am in the same place I was last year at this time, or a few years ago
I am listening to the same song over and over again
Going back to familiar streets, but the storefronts have changed
It is only on these same streets that I recognize the difference in my gait

A man steals because he is poor
Later, when he has sufficient means, he stops
But he has not returned to himself, walked along the path of his poverty, looked at the same hole-ridden boots and chosen to go hungry
Only then, has he returned

I wonder if things are different now
Am I different
Are these new skin cells, fingernails, hair follicles?
Or am I just a more recent copy of the original
Having collected a few footnotes and smudges along the way?

A new approach:

She tells me that repeated behaviors make tracks in our brains
The neural pathways become worn and paved
That part of the brain dies, like a footpath where grass no longer grows
Changing behavior forges new neural connections
A new path is created
For skipping, playing hopscotch, wheel-barrel races, a hike
And the brain cells grow all around
Begonias in a well-tended garden, where the weeds have been picked to make room for them to come in this year,
And next year, and the one after that.