Souls

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(sidewalk art at the Mul HaKinneret mall at Tzemach)

That thorn that snagged my sleeve

may be a soul

how does one grab attention in desperation

grab them by the arm, Please!

Help me!  Forgive me!

Where is my consciousness

anger by the physical snag

compassion for the soul in need

awe at the multi-levels of existence

You’re forgiven.  You’re forgiven.  You’re forgiven.

I may have known you.

now maybe you can move on.

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Chometz

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(from Jordan River Dates box)

Just like where I finally bake

my half-baked ideas

the gourmet dish spent so much time

preparing and seasoning and marinating

overnight or for days or more

remains inedible

till actually cooked in the oven

those notes and drafts left inedible till

cooked hot-off-the-press

All those nooks and crannies

and baked-in dirt and grime

all those filed-away parts of me

and vices I neglect to properly deal with

close the oven door and walk away

now it’s time to open and clean

parts of the oven that look hard-to-reach

then find a back-street slot accessibility

if only I stop, take an extra moment, and meditate

where the cleaning rag just slides through

in one swipe that whole section’s cleaned

in one fell swoop

those mountains in my mind, spiritual-mental blocks

when I actually take a moment and a deep breath

crumbles like its sized mole or ant hill

There are also those seemingly simple small angled spots

piece of cake, don’t sweat it, breeze right through deceit

hack away with a toothpick and break a sweat at the reality

douse with water, but won’t budge, more and more cleaner

there’s that part inside me that’s like that too

stubborn deep-seated beliefs and habits

that I’m aware need to be tossed

should have been tossed and gone long ago

pack-ratted them because was always running

didn’t take the time to rethink, reset, declutter

or got someone else to clean and handle it

delegate off those parts cannot or will not deal with now

the once-a-year count-down till The Exodus

when we must take the time

Our calendar marks our time, and determines it

It is time, it says.  No more time to let it slide

It is time to free ourselves of chometz.