Read the poet as a builder:
Moving ink blocks about
The construction paper,
Cementing a letter here,
Plastering a word there,
Drilling a trope to an en-
Jambment and nailing a
Rhyme to hold the stanza
In place; glue, his metaphor
And with it he tightly binds
Narrative to personification;
That strict ruler of his, measuring
In metrical feet of the stressed
Or unstressed syllable verities,
(Perhaps iambic, anapestic, or
Trochaic feet for all we know);
Similes are like his beams and
Sheetrock the weak portmanteaus
They support… This builder
Builds not what the botanical
(And punitive) would call a
Prose garden but an oasis of
Poe-trees, their fruit dripping
In-tense, creative juice
To build something beautiful
He gives.
To build something eternal
He takes.
He takes of himself and gives
It to something greater
Higher
They shall make for Me a sanctuary
And I will dwell in their midst
We are all building; the alternative
Is destruction and let’s not go there.
We are builders, constructing a home
For the Divine in a place not so conducive
To the light that is Purity and the warmth that
Is Truth
Each our own: each building with the tools we
Know: some swing the blatant hammer of clarity,
Others maneuver the threaded needle of subtlety.
Each in our midst, our depths, a sanctuary is built,
Defined, refined and Divined – and then of matter
Spirit and He, the creator of all builders and materials
Dwells within their midst
Their plural: within each and every one
A sanctuary lives
But how to start; where to begin?
Let them take for Me a portion
From every man whose heart is generous
You shall take My portion
Begin by taking of myself, take what
My generous heart allows, separate a
Little something from the things my
Body hordes; take a portion of the down
Low and give it on high, exalt it, construct
With it a temple, a sanctuary, a spirit of
Soul built on the matter of body –
Translating Terumah: 1) Separation; 2) Exaltation
Separate a portion of the things you possess, take it
And dedicate it, give it, build with it something Divine,
And see as the portion separated is elevated and becomes
Exalted
As the poet the builder we are all poets, all builders,
Composing verse after verse of Divine ink – a good
Deed, another verse, a sweet smile, another verse,
A mitzvah, another verse – building a little more
And a little more of the sanctuary – light candles,
Another room lit, make a blessing, another door
Swings open, eat kosher, another tapestry woven
And within their midst the Divine dwells, glows,
Shines forth from face to face, soul to soul, each
Our personal sanctuaries – the small verses we write
The little acts we do – our personal sanctuaries beckoning
The ultimate sanctuary of all –
The dwelling place of the Divine
Upon the Temple Mount
In Jerusalem
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.