I am a synagogue after the temple has been destroyed;
Your presence has abandoned me.

Worshippers still flock to the mirror to brush
Their teeth and wash their hands, but they find
Routine has replaced ecstasy, and their reflections
Mirror obedience instead of passion.

Should I be grateful I am still intact?
The rafters still cover my head, and steady breath
Still pushes through the lungs of the sanctuary,

But there is a subtle, spiritual difference,
As though the scent of incense has been tainted by
A faint sense of decay. The carefully crafted
Prayer shawls have now an air of absurdity,

For why should I cover myself when
No one is here to see?

08/25/2003

Author's Note: If we can "see" God in our loved ones, then in the loss of a love do we not also experience a loss of God? This is spiritual decimation.

Posted on 08/25/2003
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