Ne’ilah

The hinge of the year the great gates opening and then slowly slowly closing on us. I always imagine those gates hanging over the ocean fiery over the stone grey waters of evening. We cast what we must change about ourselves onto the waters flowing to the sea. The sins, errors, bad habits, whatever you call them, dissolve. When I was little I cried out I! I! I! I want, I want. Older, I feel less important, a worker bee in the hive of history, miles of hard labor to make my sweetness. The gates are closing The light is failing I kneel before what I love imploring that it may live. So much breaks, wears down, fails in us. We must forgive our broken promises— their sharp shards in our hands.