Sometimes, there's too much feeling to wrap in an essay.
Sometimes, you don't have the words to describethe disconnect between keva and kavannah.
The self-conciousness of coming so late to centuries of practice
Questions like...
When do I bow?
How do I bow?
The nagging voice in your head
that tells you you're doing it wrong.
And sometimes, you are standing in synagogue,
letting those feelings surround you.
The worry vanishes.
Everything clicks.
Sometimes, you turn around and you see her
--the Shabbat bride--
carrying a bouquet of sunset.
She enters and dissipates,
giving pieces of herself to everyone.
And just before she does,
you bow.
