Two Books: An Introduction Part IX
For this blog series, it would be obvious that I put two books in conversation before, but never has one of them be my own. At first, my post for Sukkot was only going to highlight a poem, maybe two, from the most recent novel in verse I completed. In this work, food is featured prominently and the Jewish holiday that provides its frame, and other identity exploration, is Sukkot. As I read ???'s pages, I felt, as I have often, a synergy with history and identity that I didn't realize I had. Upon returning to the poems, the resulting conversation between books, is in fact another conversation between myself and my Jewish identity this year.
Book One: The words on my pages thought they knew. . . The words on my pages tried to learn. . .
Sukkot celebrates harvest.
Sukkot commemorates protection.
Sukkot is about agriculture
Agriculture is about optimism
Optimism is about Israel
Book Two*: "One reason why we go from the High Holidays to Sukkot is that, having had the world given to us on Rosh Hashanah—the world has been created, we now have to build something.” (73) Your words show this progression.
Book One:
I can condense time
I can stretch it
No matter
The feelings are always the same.
Faith is an opportunity
To convince others
You have a good idea
To move forward
Book Two: I agree. "We have to create something out of the world, and the sukkah is the first gesture. With the first nail that we drive in right after Yom Kippur, we say, 'Having been redeemed and having the world be created, now I want to make it better.'" (73)
Book One:
I watch the walls of sukkah
Rise
Fragile.
We eat under open sky.
Impractical.
Some sleep in the sukkah.
Unsafe.
Book Two: "On Yom Kippur, God is our judge. On Sukkot, God is our shelter. On Yom Kippur, we sit cooped up for endless hours inside. Sukkot is about space and breath. On Yom Kippur, it's all about 'What have I done?' But on Sukkot, it's 'What can I do in the world?'" (73-74)
Book One:
She said she had never
Built a sukkah.
Except, she had.
Extensions of her home.
Shelters while they walked.
For some
Every day
Today
Is still Sukkot.
Book Two: I hear you. It can seem like we are not enough to belong. It can seem like we cannot do enough. Tell me more.
Book One:
Temporary shelters that aren't temporary.
Fragile sleeping from which you don't wake up.
Broken stone. Ripped cloth.
Discarded safety on purpose
Walls. Rock built up.
Walls. Rock tumbles down.
Without purpose.
Never found, unending
Quiet.
Book Two: "'In some ways, the most beautiful part about the sukkah,' Wolpe says, as we take chairs opposite each other, 'is that you know it's fragile and temporary, and yet you have to be able to look through the roof and see the stars; because if you can't see the heavens, the sukkah isn't kosher. In other words, as you sit in the midst of fragility, you also have an eye on eternity.'” (78)
Book One:
Live through the
Longest day
Until the next day
Is another longer,
Longest day.
But what about
The night?
Turn off the TV
Turn down the radio.
What’s different?
The moon.
A scent wakes me up,
Citrus.
For some
Every day
Today
Is still Sukkot.
Book Two: “This is what I started this project to hear—ideas that change my perspective. When do I sit with fragility and contemplate eternity? . . . 'You wouldn't think that something that emphasizes the fragility of life would make you happy, but the truth is that everything in life depends on its one day ending.'" (78)
Book One:
Days, weeks, months
Some without rain.
Dry. Desert. Burning.
Others too much rain.
Blood. Tears. Spilling.
I type and erase, “Success is not-”
Language. Education. Culture. History.
I type and erase, “Safety is not-”
Iraq. Poland. Ethiopia.
I type and erase, “Justice is not-”
Refugee. Colonist.
I type and erase, “Peace is not-”
Book Two: "The illusion of shelter. I'm beginning to think that Judaism is obsessed with brevity and instability. But rather than finding the message depressing, it's clarifying. The more temporary things are, the more precious they become." (80)
Book One:
From a tented encampment
Sukkot
To the stone of Sinai
Shavuot
In the darkness, the empty
Is a new beginning.
Book Two: Rabbi Sharon Brous speaks to this. "'Strip away all our privileges and luxuries; we'd still be full,' Brous says. 'We are all we need.'" (83)
Book One:
Fragile. Abundant. Perilous.
Life is a
Journey
is a constant.
It’s better if you have
At least two passports.
Book Two: Your practicality is rooted in the history of who we are. I challenge you for future poetry, to equate endings with appreciation and to choose joy over misery. Ends are a constant. Don't spend your time anticipating them. That will make you fear instead of value their moments.
Book One:
“We should pray,”
One voice in many says.
“Pray?”
“The Traveler’s Prayer.”
“For who?”
“For everyone.”
Book Two--My Jewish Year: 18 Holidays, One Wondering Jew by Abigail Pogrebin
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