Closeness to Our Creator

Closeness to Our Creator

By Arianna Zarka

  

I grasp our last ounce of memory by digging my fingers into the hundreds of crevices,

I adjust my shawl; my shoulders must be covered,

My long skirt looks funny on me but,

We must dress respectfully.

I adjust my shawl; my shoulders must be covered,

I look at the women, all dressed modestly,

We must dress respectfully,

I can’t see my father; there’s a barrier between the men and women.

I look at the women, all dressed modestly,

I ask a woman for her Siddur, she says no; I look for my dad,

I can’t see my father; there’s a barrier between the men and women.

I realize that it might be a good idea to say Shemah, the only prayer I know by heart.

Again, I ask a woman for her Siddur, she says no; I look for my dad,

For a while I couldn’t find him, I still can’t find him,

I realize that it might be a good idea to say Shemah, the only prayer I know by heart,

I draw my body even closer to the withering wall, trying to remember words.

For a while I couldn’t find Him, I still can’t find Him,

It has always been difficult for me to find G-d,

I draw my body even closer to the withering wall, trying to remember words,

Words to prayers from the Siddur and words to my own prayers.

It has always been difficult for me to find G-d,

Today I feel a connection with G-d, maybe the connection is from the,

Words to prayers from the Siddur and words to my own prayers,

Which I am trying to annunciate through my deep sobs.

Today I feel a connection with G-d, maybe the connection is from the,

Tears of praise and hope and the words to my made-up prayers,

Which I am trying to annunciate through my deep sobs,

I feel that my words mean something and that he’s listening and before I take leave,

I grasp our last ounce of memory by digging my fingers into the hundreds of crevices.