Archive
04/09/12
This House
This house, foundationed in the contours of a moss-carpeted cliff Lifting into a benignly bright April-blue sky, Invites our hearts' ark into the accouterment of another's heart — Gifts gathered from a past unfolding yet, second by year, Breathing with a pleasingly seamless integrity, A symmetry interwoven with the spirit of your cousin Judy, Who believes history's matrix recreates a vital immediacy.
This sanctuarial house, an hour north of frantic Manhattan, In the bouldered-woods and lake-cratered womb of Westchester County, Is her Mount Zion temple, Guarding the sacred symbols, relics, emblems, holy scrolls, Entrusted unto her sagacious stewardship, So that the generations of the Glatzer family might know their origins In the Old Testament as well as in the Old and New Worlds.
Now, this sublime Saturday noon, the air in this house is pulsating, Anticipating evening's intimate Passover Seder, To be led, every ancestral step of our destiny's reverential way, By Judy, who knows Moses's sister, Miriam, and wife, Zipporah, As well as she knows herself, knows you, Linda, and, now, me. Before the close of this spring day, with just a touch of grace, We'll begin feeling the freedom faith bequeathed us, long, long ago.
04/09/12
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