Poems for Elul by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat
In 2003, the year that I started Velveteen Rabbi, I also started the practice of sending a poem to family and friends during Elul as the Days of Awe approach. On this page you'll find those poems, sent to friends and family during Elul from 2003 until now. (They're ordered in reverse chronological order, with the newest one at the top.)
2019 / 5780: Now
Suddenly the two stately trees
outside my window are shot through
with sprays of gold. My heart rails
against the turning season
like a child resisting bedtime, but
the trees hear the shofar's call.
Come alive, flare up, be
who you are: let your light shine!
The katydids and crickets sing
the time is now, the time is now.
The last time I visited my mother
I told her "it's okay if you're ready
to go." My heart railed against
her dying, but after one last burst
of color she was ready to rest.
This year the trees' razzle-dazzle
speaks to me in her voice: be here
while you can. Drink every drop
of daylight. And when night falls,
it's full of stars: don't be afraid.
poem by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat, 2019
*
2018 / 5779: As days are waning
The new year starts as days are waning.
I'm never ready when the first leaves turn.
Every Jewish day begins with evening:
darkness before light, since the beginning.
I'm never ready when the first leaves turn.
Roll the scroll toward the end of our story:
darkness before light since the beginning.
Am I ready to turn and face what's coming?
Roll the scroll toward the end of our story --
can I open my hands and let go of the summer?
Am I ready to turn and face what's coming?
You know what they say about endings.
I open my hands and let go of the summer,
paint every cracked and broken place with gold.
You know what they say about endings:
turn the page, start a chapter, begin again.
Paint every cracked and broken place with gold!
Every Jewish day begins with evening:
turn the page, start a chapter, begin again.
The new year starts as days are waning.
poem by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat, 2018
*
2017 / 5778: Transplanted
God says: face facts. The old year
is ending. You’ve outgrown it.
The flowerpot that used to be home
isn’t big enough anymore. Once
it was spacious. Now your roots
push uncomfortably against the walls.
It's time to stop contorting yourself
to fit inside a story that's too small
for who you can become. God whacks
the bottom of your pot, sends you flying.
Once you're pried from the old year
your roots will ache, shocked
by open air. You'll wonder whether
you could have stopped growing.
But one morning you'll wake, realize
you've stretched in ways you never knew
you hadn't done before. The sun
will feel like a benediction, like
grace. You can't help turning
and re-turning toward the light,
toward becoming. And wait 'til you see
what dazzling flowers you'll discover
springing from your fingertips:
your life renewed, beginning again.
poem by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat, 2017
*
Find all of the Velveteen Rabbi's poems for Elul here: https://velveteenrabbi.blogs.com/blog/new-years-poems.html
And find more High Holiday liturgy from Bayit at: https://yourbayit.org/holy-at-home/
