Holy Day Dreams - Poem by Linda Hepner
I dreamed a book, a tome, stepped off the shelf
And light as thought with flutes began to dance:
Slowly at first each page revealed itself
And then the book twirled round –a backward glance
Towards the watcher who stood up and tried
To seize the covers while they spun and swayed
The air vibrating like a gleaming bride,
Her eyes wide open, Mitzvah Tantz waylaid.
I dreamed my son-in-law of princely eyes
Saw a large potted plant outside my door
Catching the Succot rain, a rare surprise
For thirsty roots and mouths where deserts poor
In moisture seethe with lizards, crickets, sun;
The plant was dark and cold, he brought it in
And placed it carefully, the only one
Of all my plants to grace my white kitchen.
Then suddenly upon a sturdy stem
A mammal – far too sweet to be a rat –
With shovel nose, peeked quickly, said “Ahem!
I live here now, with you, and that is that.”
On Erev Yom Kippur I had a dream
That I prepared my table all in white,
Thinking of Sabbath, when each glass must gleam
Reflecting candle flames that burn all night.
A helpful witch came in and took the cloth
To wash out any stains – that were not there –
She drew it from the churning soapy froth
And threw it in the dryer without care…
I found it tumbling and I drew it out
To set the Sabbath table, put it back,
But saw or rather felt a sudden clout –
The cloth had shrunk and turned from white to black.
Oh God, my daytimes and my dreams are yours,
And I like Miriam no longer play;
If dreams are good, preserve them without pause,
If sick, may Balaam turn the night to day.
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