Tshuvah

I bare the memory of

the times I turned away from

You. A little eclipse here and

there until the shadows developed

lives of their own. Even if I could

say that it was the ease of life

that permitted recklessness

or the grip of fear that enabled

indifference, or the challenge of

loss that provided bad choices, I still

could not justify going into hiding

while You kept calling. Where are you?

Where are you? I pretended not to hear

until one day I wasn't pretending anymore.

Then it was my turn to panic. Where

are You? Where are You?

The untamed music of the ram's horn

wails against my chosen deafness,

eerie and wild sounds like sobs

in darkness from a longing child.

Tears break walls - I can not tell if

they are mine or Yours but there

is a downpour, a rush of wind

through cracks in the surface and suddenly

salt water rain errupts from the depths

of being. As raw as Hannah's prayer and

as painful as Hagar's despair, I plunge

into the deep sea as Jonah had to do,

pleading for You. Do not cast me away.

Do not give up on me. I can hardly

breath and my heart trembles as I

struggle to face You again.

Can You see me now

in my nakedness, exposed and

embarrassed by my failures to

live in Your grace? I am here,

I am here, I weep to the question

You once asked. Do not forget me

King of the universe, King of all

Kings Whose mercy is the breath

of all that lives and Whose love

unlocks even the tightest doors. Teach

me how to sing again so that I may

reach You and soar on the eagle's wings

above the clouds. Let me be worthy

of Your consideration, even of Your

disappointment. I am here, I am

here, is Your soft reply.

(alizah shatzky. 2003)

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