Touchstones

I recently returned from my first trip to Israel as part of a tour group from my synagogue. I'm still processing it, but was able to capture some of what it meant to me in the following poem.

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Touchstones

From the concrete and glass of the airport

To the plastic and fiberglass of the plane

Crowds and hushed whispers and sleep that would not come

It was night and then it was morning—twice over

The first days

Venturing out into the heat

I am awestruck by this city of stone

Modern yet historic

Creating new technologies

While honoring those who fought for this space

From start-up to start again

Failure is but a step

Along the path to tikkun olam

Inspired by an idea

Brought to life with a speech

As we rise and sing.

Tunes familiar and different

Yet the same genuine smiles

We welcome Shabbat

Though we speak different languages

To say the same words

We want to learn and understand and know

What do you make from your life?

Are you ever separate

from the bedrock of this place?

And it was evening and it was morning. The third day.

Words of Torah

Written in sand, in stone

Who are we if we act based on what we fear

Instead of who we know ourselves to be?

On the shores of the Mediterranean

We look into the past

And see ourselves.

Driven by a vision

A thirst for both water and freedom

Hiding in plain sight

Fighting to make an idea manifest

A homeland

A makom kavua for am Yisrael

One volunteer at a time

One bullet at a time

While the giraffes look on

I stood in this place

Where they sang about peace

Only to be silenced by a gun

I touched the stone

And was moved

Then it was evening and morning

The fourth day.

A morning talk about happiness

About haves and have-nots

One thing is clear: when we have ice kafé

We are happy

From the serenity of biblical gardens

We share our gratitude by planting trees

Hope for the next generation

While honoring the walls

That keep us safe

As we travel deeper into the mystery

The visions of the merkavah

As we place ourselves in the sefirot

And ourselves become the Tree

Planted long before

And it was evening and it was morning

The fifth day.

An oasis of beauty

Leads to more stone

Solid walls of justice

Through the gate that bears

The language of our ancestors

And our new friends

A stone that proves we were here

In ages past.

I want to touch it

To connect here to there

Now to then

But there is no need

I am here

In this place

It is enough.

Loud booms shatter the stillness

Smoke etches the sky

As hate wreaks more destruction

We watch, safe on our mountaintop

As the air shudders around us

And we remember

Peace is a choice

In every moment.

Then with wine and chocolate and water

We celebrate with our Muslim cousins

There can be laughter

As we navigate the rapids

Of our lives.

And a shared meal

With friends we hadn’t yet met

Brings us back to our center

The why of it all

It is the connections we make

That bind us together

And it was evening and then morning

The sixth day.

From the youth of today

To the leaders of tomorrow

From the graves of those who came before

Who left us to be the caretakers

Of their children, their legacies

To the stages that once teemed with Jewish blood

And now resonate with music

We travel the last leg home

Ready to embrace the stone at the center

The heart and soul

Yerushalayim

And it was an evening of lights and a morning of light

The seventh day.

We slip into a tunnel

Beneath the heart

Surrounded by stone

Silent with the weight of history

Layers upon layers

It serves as a reminder

That connection with the holy

Requires we go deep.

As we approach the Kotel

The energy is thick

With prayer and emotion

All of life’s struggles

That are too heavy to bear

Are brought here to this wall

Seeping into the cracks

Our hopes and dreams and longing

Becoming the mortar

Touching stones worn smooth

With tears and caresses

And words uttered in pain and joy

Never meant for human ears.

There are claims upon these stones

Sacred places, sacred lands

And the lines are neither simple nor clear

Truth can be a mirage

Not found on any map

As the sun sets and rises again

The eighth day.

A song of descents.

Even as we rise

In the blistering heat

From the top of a camel

To the top of a mountain

Our tether to this place

Tenuous as a cord

We ponder martyrdom

And the price of freedom

And what it means

To truly fall.

Mountain to sea

Dry stone to sticky mud

We descend until there is no more to go

And for this moment

As we rest and lean back

Peace floats around us

And it was evening and then morning

The ninth day.

Every gain has required loss

Every hope comes on the heels of despair

And this Hope

This place

These stones

Mark both ending and beginning

Their memory haunts us still

We honor them

With a place and a name

And will never forget.

As Shabbat comes to us again

It sinks into every sense

Everything we have experienced

Every food tasted

Every song sung

Every stone touched

We will carry with us always

And it was evening and morning

The tenth day.

It is art that speaks of who we are

Who we were

The lives we led

So it is fitting that we end our journey

With art that gives purpose and brings joy

The art of architecture and the art of love

Knowing that the shreds of who we were

Can be molded into new strength

And become the touchstones of our lives.

As we begin the long flight to the west

Home now has two meanings

And I can live in both

No matter where I reside

And it was evening and it was morning.

Copyright ©2017 by Sheyna Galyan