Archive
04/07/12 - (1)
Two Seders
Last night, though we shared a Park Slope Passover With forty people I'd never met, I knew, from the first inviting moment We stepped into your cousin Sandy's Brooklyn brownstone, Welcomed with open warm arms, hearts, spirits — Eyes meeting mine, hands clasping mine, lips kissing mine — That I was home, that your mother's side of the tribe (Aunts, nieces, uncles, nephews, cousins, wives, Husbands, fathers, daughters, grandmothers, sons, Sisters, brothers, grandfathers, mothers) Was mine, by virtue of my deepening love for you.
Now, this Saturday morning, Ensconced amidst the family-bound Easter crowds Making Grand Central Station feel uncommonly small, Sipping hot chocolate, coffee, we wait, a reflective hour, To catch our Metro-North Commuter Railroad train, For Goldens Bridge, in Westchester County, Where we'll reinvest our faith, in a second Seder, This one shepherded by your paternal-side cousin Judy. And after we close her beautiful soul's Haggadah, The ancient maror having drained from our veins, We'll savor the haroseth of our liberated lovemaking.
04/07/12 - (1)
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