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