Watching the River
at the Shaarey Zedek Synagogue

 

The river flows
past the Temple,
as the water goes
through the river
past the Temple.

A birth, a Bar, a Bat,
A Chupa, a child begot,
and we have only words
to dignify the plot.

Through health, through sickness,
in good, in bad,
and we have only words
to chronicle the wealth of times.

A single voice is still,
as her time soon ends,
and we have only words,
to try and fix the rends,
while the river flows
caressing out the bends.

The river flows,
The water goes,
past the Temple,
to a place,
that no one knows.

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