On Not Observing Purim This Year

Sorry, Rabbis of the Talmud,

I didn’t dress up in a costume

Like I was supposed to,

Didn’t get so drunk

I couldn’t differentiate bless and curse

Like you said we should,

Didn’t hear anyone chant

How Esther saved our people

From the evil Haman.

Though the week before I took the kids

To Tamar’s hamantashen party — 

Fed the tray of sweet triangles to the oven,

Scraped dough off the table like a good guest — 

On the holiday itself I went out,

Drank two overpriced gin and tonics

And thought about kissing

Someone I’d just met.

And it was there, in the bar, that I realized

What you meant, Rabbis

Of the Talmud, when you say

That Purim is even holier

Than Yom Kippur.  Nothing happened,

In that bar, just the idea

Of living someone else’s life.

But that tiny glimpse was enough

To finally teach me (I think) what you meant:

Fasting and penance are sacred

In an ordinary sort of way.

But to forget yourself so thoroughly

You can’t tell the difference

Between who you are,

And who you’d never be?

That’s as holy as you can get.

Alicia Jo Rabins is a writer, musician and Torah teacher.
Her most recent book of poetry is “Fruit Geode” (Augury Books).