Learning To Speak

Nishmat Kol Chai Tverech Et Shimecha

Everything alive blesses You as it breathes

I pray with breath you have lent me

but when I want to pray aloud,

ancient words block my path.

Hebrew lines across a desert,

the long trail of Jews walking toward You.

Their robes rise in the wind, and they lift their voices --

but I can't catch the meaning:

time dried these words, they're just ink to me now.

The trail is cold.

I block the path to You myself:

my mouth could open the gate, but I keep it closed --

speech pours out too easily; I rain on my own road.

It gets slick with my speech, and I skid by You.

I boast, I rebel, I can't pray with this voice.

I'm just making sounds.

The sparrow chirps, the seagull squawks,

all who breathe call to You,

but I come with words.

I have a small word, a yelp of confusion,

but yank it back in my mouth

before You can hear.

That's my prayer: the second before I speak.

Breathe in on the Ni, breathe out on the Shema,

Nishmat

As I breathe, I pray two words: help me

I've reached the hard part,

the leap from Nishmat to Kol Chai.

To say Kol, my mouth has to stay open;

For Chai, I need my jaw and my tongue, all I've got,

and breath pulls a prayer from my throat if I mean it:

if my prayers plant deeds.

The willow lifts in the wind:

the tides go in and out again.

Thank you for air:

I'm learning to use it to speak to You.

Nishmat Kol Chai Tverech

May my words be acceptable

... Et Shimecha

You are the One who waits, listening.

Shelby Allen