Atonement is return
to the beginning.
T'Shuvah.
where God is creating
the heavens and the earth,
and the earth is tohu wa'bohu,
formless and void.
Darkness is over the face of the deep.
And the breath of wisdom,
who is the paramour,
plays upon the waters,
brooding like a mother bird
over the infinite egg,
stirring, ruffling the silence
into waves.
It is not far.
The pilgrimage of soul-retrieval
is a journey of one inhalation
from the sun in your chest
to the starry ayin soph
in your forehead.
And the practice of returning
is a journey of one exhalation
from the pulse between your eyebrows
to your heart.
T'Shuvah.
On the way you will become a tadpole
smothered in womb jelly.
You will be a mushroom spore,
a shard of moonlight wounding the imaginal cell
of an ambiguous cocoon,
a ululation of DNA on the tooth of a cougar.
You will be the soundless blade of the owl's wing,
one and the same final sigh
in 5,784 deaths.
You will pass through a forest of rainbows
rooted in the blackness of the aquifer,
the rain itself.
It is not far.
The pilgrimage of the soul is the body.
The journey of our unending breath
back to the Wordless beginning.
Return.
T'Shuvah.
Imagine the silence.
Icon: 'Eve at Peace' by Sue Ellen Parkinson
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