The love in me is as simple as matzah
as essential, and as plain.
when my heart burns
and I return to you
having gone through the fire
that ignites superfluity, and anything that doesn’t survive
each test of the furnace, was not meant to live
in this rushed, hasty, quick running out of time
flattened, natural, core bounty.
nothing is left to give except… what’s true and holy, and what I know is mine.
The love in me is as as crazy as charoset.
as I enter the orchard
lost in a world of apples and wine.
hinting at spices I can’t quite touch, and nuts,
it’s the sweetness of our foundation
of what hardship could be endured
what could be enduringly built between the binding
and the bound.
The love in me is as ruthless as salt
in water.
the kind that God steams from my eyes.
that bounces in oceans
waters that split—into walls on either side
it’s the birth of duality, of a me and a you.
and those three miraculous words pour forth,
that can make anyone quiver
and salt water drips from your hair line
as we press hearts and sweat,
“I love you.”
The love in me is as fierce as maror, horseradish.
It will burn you, remind you of pain, but not quite—
like a burning bush that does not consume,
my passion will kill you, but you will not die.
because
The love in me is as fresh as karpas, green vegetable.
I scream, “Renew us, God, and we will be renewed!”
In a circle like beitzah, the roasted egg.
it’s the cycle of life, this love. what makes the worlds
and the generations and artistry go on
it’s the lovesickness that comes again
knows you again, and enters you
holds your mind in my hands
For we are all held by the moon
this seder plate, as we meditate
on the parts of the many,
for love is as dynamic as freedom tastes
and the center of what liberates is The One.
What all else lives within
held and cradled
is my love.
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