In the dining room
the two of us
at the long table,
joined by a silent chorus
from empty chairs.
Holiday eve Kiddush
echoes in the void.
In morning prayer
I face my computer,
now also an ark.
My words are whole,
I am not.
As liturgy streams,
I swim upstream,
yearning for
sunlight streaming
through stained glass.
This plague year,
a holiday unique.
An elegant meal
on paper plates,
with vintage wine
in paper cups.
For the first time I am
a broken shard,
withered grass,
a shriveled flower,
a fading cloud,
a fleeting breeze.