B’rachdodiu’dimehl’chal’tzvi
O’ l’oferha’ayalim
Al ha’reiv’samim
Make haste, my beloved, like a gazelle
or a young hart
upon the mountains of spices.
(Song of Songs 8:14)
Let go and
Leap my love
Out of love
Into love
Out from the womb of the one who warned you
Into the polemical mouth of the proverbial snake
Out of the cradle endlessly mocking
Into the beard of the bard who sings the bride's ballad
Falling in love
Flying face to
Face your fear
Arise and expand my love
Out from between the pursed lips of the cherubim
Into the rustling of leaves and wings
Out from beneath the cracked cornerstone of history
Into the temple of time in eternity
You dirty dove you've been rolling in ashes far too long
Brush off your sack cloth
You masochist
Get out of your ruinous head and don't come back without a promise a prayer a dream a drop from the ocean a seed of song from a speck of star dust
Take flight and
Soar my love
Over chagall's crooked rooftops and shalom's clumsy milk carts
Out of the efficient ovens of aushewitz
Over the crescent crowned cupolas of Córdoba
Out of the Jazz man's golden horn
Over the minarets of the Middle East of Eden
Out from behind all those pews and pages
Express yourself o' empty abstraction
Speak yourself real
Sing your soul divine
Do not disturb or delay this dance of drunken devotees spinning stories
Out from the dusty genizas of Cairo
Out of the milquetoast melting pot
Out of the graveyards museums and monuments
Off of the battle field
Return me o' love from the wilderness of civilization
Settle me back in to the garden of paradox
Take me into your atlantean arms
Let us erect our tent atop this hennaed hill of spices and
Rejoice in the rolling of waves and roaming of clouds
Our love is water running back to its source
Wine that retains the shape of a glass after it shatters
These secrets aren't for sale
But blessings are available through barter for those who make it past golgotha's gates
Beyond those rusty hinges lies an open field of incomparable radiance
B’rachdodiu’dimehl’chal’tzvi
O’ l’oferha’ayalim
Al ha’reiv’samim
Make haste, my beloved, like a gazelle
or a young hart
upon the mountains of spices.
(Song of Songs 8:14)