Poem: Sukkot 5785
Sukkot 5785
On Sukkot we embrace
and are embraced
by vulnerability.
We leave our warm beds
and go outside
to live in a house
with a leaking roof.
It has no locks.
Sometimes not even doors.
As I prepare
to leave my warm bed
and to step into the air
I think of those
who had done so already.
The holidays were ending.
Their routines were about to begin anew
but then they never came home
and we don't know where they are
or whether or not
they remember their beds.
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