The Moon of Iyar (April-May)
Imagine your soul coming into blossom
alongside the trees and flowers,
all shouting hymns to life.
Imagine the soft, gentle hands of light fondly stroking
the beds of the earth, the top of your head, the core of your heart.
Imagine your soul freed from slavery, wandering in the wide expanse of wilderness.
Your eyes trail on the vast spread of sky, the towering mountains all around you.
And your soul calls upon the name of God,
HaMakom
The Place you return to
HaMakom
in this Moon of Iyar, in the Land,
when the earth heats up, toasting brown in the sun, and
feisty blue globed thistles bristle on the hillsides,
when golden staves of barley are harvested and restless sheep are sheared,
when amber streams of honey are scooped up and stored and
fruit tree blossoms emit heady fragrance both by day and night,
I go back,
back,
back
into the depths of the wilderness.
Long ago in this Moon
I wandered the parched desert hills
a slave freshly redeemed,
body freed, spirit yet imprisoned,
vicissitudes imprinted upon my soul.
And even now
it's as if my soul knows
this moon is the wandering time.
And she begins to drift, meander, become restless,
etched with memories
of long ago.
HaMakom
You Who are my place,
wherever I go I learn You are there.
Whenever I long for home, I learn it is in You.
You accompany my desert wanderings,
by my side,
through it all.
In Iyar, Moon of Light,
You offer me a space in which to rest.
In Iyar, Moon of Nurture,
You offer me a place in which I can recover from the wizenings and hardships of life.
Each morning manna lies outside my tent.
My sandals do not become worn, nor do my clothes age.
Patient One Who adores me,
You wait for me to heal,
wait for me to grow,
wait for me to learn that You are there and will not leave me,
to learn You will not fetter me,
You will not abandon me,
that You wait from love of me.
Though I know I am free, my soul learns more slowly,
like light penetrating fog,
this new born understanding takes time
to be felt, to be known,
to be claimed,
to be joined with.
Freedom of body is the soil,
yet freedom to live in spirit, to shine in soul,
to carve out pathways of light in the world,
that is Your call, that Your invitation.
So in this Moon of Iyar I begin to seek You.
I learn to trust You.
I begin to see You as
Companion,
Beloved,
Friend.
 So tenderly come near.
Sing me songs at dusk and aid me heal the torn parts of my spirit.
Walk patiently beside me as I ramble through the stony, barren places,
spaces I must go,
letting old parts of myself, yet enslaved, wither and shed,
fall away like husks now unneeded.
Embrace me in my night and lead me home to You
when I wander, lost.
Hold up the light of Iyar that I might be guided back to You
as my body releases its memories of slavery
into the velvet night's mists.
HaMakom
My Place, The Place,
gather me in gently like a new born lamb.
Shelter me under Your wings.
Heal me, mend me, repair me, revive me
succor me, restore me.
HaMakom.
Photography Credits:
First and second photograph: Leonid Rozenfeld
Last photograph: Alon Kvashny
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