The mezuzah speaks
of years finger touched
by faith,
disinterest,
habit–
depending on the day.
Painted over,
pried at, forgotten–
hidden scroll still and
silent
like G-d’s voice to Elijah.
My fingers twitch
more doubt than hope,
reaching higher than any human door,
Are You still there?
An exhale, waiting
in between
and emptied
It answers simply
with breath–
Yes.
And for another Friday literary bouquet, join Kimberlee Conway Ireton.