Introspection

(on New Year 5778)

Quietude, melody,

Harmony, nuach,

Nigun,

Mediation, nusach,

Poetry, discourse,

Contemplation, reflection,

Rapport, warmth,

Goodwill, remembrance, Ruach, catharsis,

Individuality, existentialism, congregation,

Interfamiliarity, unity, fellowship

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 27 September 2017

Tashlich

(With thanks to Rabbi Jason Fenster for the inspiration)

I am but an atom in a sea of humanity, a single spark of the world’s heart;
I can not heal her on my own.

My actions are slow; I have stones in my shoes.

Pebbles as small as grains of sand wear away my good intentions,
my aims of learning, charity and deeds of loving-kindness:

Anger, Frustration, Envy, Despair, Sadness, Helplessness, Bitterness, Pride;
all are grit eroding my shields.

I need to stop and rest, empty my mind of distractions, remove my shoes.

Let all the gravel life has put in my path turn to grassy trails that lead to the water’s edge.

Let me open my heart and hands to cast my sins and sorrows upon the waters,
like breadcrumbs for the birds; only then can I walk again with purpose.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 21 September 2017

Earth, Wind, Water, Fire

Mother Earth trembles
while the Anemoi blow widespread, circular patterns;
the Okeanides drop floods from the sky as the waves pound at fragile earth.

Hephaestus erupts in flame and heat, raining down fire;
burning everything in his wake.

Here we sit, asleep in our own worlds, in our own personal space;
praying for it all to stop and hiding our heads in quicksand.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 7 September 2017

Don’t let the Lights go out

(With thanks to Peter Yarrow)

We once had the Torch of Liberty,
the Votives of Memorials and Dedication,
the Candles of Sabbath;
the Moon, the stars, and the Sun.

We lit the brightly coloured birthday candles of childhood,
the tapers and menorah candles of holidays
as well as the flickering brightness celebrating old age;
lanterns in backyard tents
and flashlights for reading under the bedsheets.

Once there were fireworks celebrations
instead of the flash of gunfire, and Tiki Torches on our streets.

Once we fought to keep the Candles of Life lit in the ‘Winds of Change’;
we had lightness in our hearts,
but our light and life-force have both dimmed.

Sometime in the recent past, Life flipped the switch,
and the Light is guttering out.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 21 August 2017

Rain, Rain go Away

Yesterday would have been my father’s 91^st birthday; the 15^th will be 30 years since his death at 61 and 9 days; this recent flooding has been reminding me of that year. We took turns visiting him in hospital, but the week leading up to his long expected death none of us could get to Park Ridge.

That Saturday, my husband and I spent over 2 hours travelling the 10 miles to Lutheran General Hospital. When we arrived his room door was closed, and we discovered he’d died in his sleep waiting for us. It was up to me to call the Rabbi, to wait for my mother and sisters to arrive, and to break the news to them. In the days before mobile phones, all I could do was wait for hours until they finally got there; we forget how out of immediate touch we were with each other then.

I’ve since written many an essay, poem, memorial, eulogy, obituary, and tombstone verbiage for many loved ones as well as acquaintances. I wrote nothing for my father though, I’ve tried over the years, but little has grown to fruition. I’ve often wondered if that day’s repeated waiting purged those words and thoughts from my well of words.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 07 August 2017

Drip, drip, drip...

(With thanks to Shawn Reeves for the inspiration)

One drop, a single tear; each molecule becomes a deluge when joined with others.
Floods, waterfalls, rivers sculpt their own courses; pushing their own agendas.

Swim together, sink separately; floating along as a separate microcosm might make a lovely bubble but we need ripples, we need torrents, and we need high tides.

Remember the glorious rainbows
that form from the gossamer foam atomised over booming waterfalls;
cataracts formed of droplets... or the billows of cloud-forming steam from rain on hot rooftops.

Singly, the droplets are lovely to see when lit by a sunbeam but together they are glorious.

Be the patient drip, drip that builds a strong, but delicate, seeming stalactite…
or become part of the waterfall that carves its inimitable path
while showering the sky with rainbows.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 07 July 2017

"With hey, ho, the wind and the rain."

"But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain"

(With thanks to Will Shakespeare and Sir Terry Pratchett)

Oh, Death

Do not follow close behind;

I am not caparisoned for a desert trek.

Walk far ahead with enough time for the hourglass' sands to trickle gently down.

Ride slowly, on your Pale Horse.
You are outside time; you will always arrive punctually, even if and when I'm late departing.

Wake me not if I'm asleep.

I will be busy dreaming of sea journeys, black sands, and horse's footfalls.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 16 July 2017