Of comings and goings.
It is come –
The purpose is come, the time is come,
We have come:
Coming is the difference between life and death:
A being lives his entire life in a desert, a wilderness,
Thinking the routines he knows are the reality that is,
When in fact, the facades he sees, the products he
Worships are nothing but smoke and mirrors, smoke
Because they sure as ice ‘aint fire, mirrors because
They reflect whatever image we wish to see.
It will be when you come into the Land
That G-d gives you as an inheritance
This being then comes into a Land, a consciousness, a
State of mind and heart that does not allow for the shell
To become the fruit, does not allow for the hardened
Plastic of the iPod to divert from the inner sound of the
Music, does not allow for the flesh of the body to imprison
The flame of the soul.
What is the difference between a desert and an oasis?
What is the difference between a comatose carcass and
A breathing body – they are both made of the same earth,
Both have the same limbs, both of the same material?
Ah, but they differ in that one is come, come, come to
Life, passion and purpose, while the other lies decaying
And alone.
Life is coming completely into a certain consciousness:
One can be alive without actually living, go through the
Motions, move the limbs, do the do, but remain as dead as
Radio silence.
(I’m coming, says the perverbial summa cum loudest;
But saying and doing are two different things.)
Life, to come one must come completely – and that only
Happens when one comes to possess, to settle, to dwell…
And you possess it and settle it
If one just comes to be where it’s at, but runs from
Any challenge is that really coming?
If one comes to a realization but stays away from
Being real is that truly coming?
One can come, alone, without neighbors and friends,
Come to a certain clarity while the rest are still vague,
But is that really coming into a Land, is that entering
A state of peace and harmony?
You can come to the Land, its borders and limitations;
Or you can come into the Land, into its possibilities and
Dreams.
Coming into our own is coming with a
Knowledge that if I come but you remain
Behind, if I have settled my issues but yours
Are still unsettling, if I have possessed my
Part but you are still dispossessed…
Then I haven’t truly come –
It will be when you come into the Land –
Come not as a guest but as an inhabitant
Come not gingerly as a man to a foreign house
But come proudly as a man to a familiar home
Come not into somebody else’s ideas or thoughts
But come into your own, your own self, your own
Home –
Your own Land
Mendel Jacobson is a writer, poet and journalist living in Brooklyn. His weekly poetry can be seen at jakeyology.blogspot.com
The words of this author reflect his/her own opinions and do not necessarily represent the official position of the Orthodox Union.