Poem: Debbie Friedman - Summer, 1972

(c) 2022 - Rabbi Joe Black

In a room sizzling with summer energy

Brimming with braces, tank tops, fears, insecurity and excitement:

    Each soul an empty bucket longing to be filled with love

 

She burst in-

   Brown fiery eyes peaking over the top of her massive Martin D-35 

Thumb and finger picks flying

Strings splitting open at breakneck speed

She commanded us to 

 

Sing.

   Unto.

      God.

 

And God help us if we didn’t….

God helped us and we did. 

 

In her presence we were special. 

In her passion we were perfect. 

How could so much joy flow through 12 jingle jangle strings?

 

We sang with lungs bursting and found harmony that transcended music.

 

 Dancing, clapping, laughing, slipping and crying on pathways to paradise. 

 

She taught us to see

She fed us 

Pain 

Joy 

Passion and 

Pathos 

 

We were hers

She was ours 

 

And for a brief moments we sprouted wings and floated, transcendent,

Over long liquid days of Wisconsin corn fields and mosquitos bites

Breaking free from the awkward, earthly chains of burgeoning adolescence

Transforming into Angels

Carrying messages of love and laughter

Hope and holiness

We fit. 

We were

One. 

 

And let us say:  Amen.