RUACH HA-KODESH (THE HOLY SPIRIT)

The low kettle gurgles under plump evening sun

As I prepare a cup of comfort, And tongues of the steam follow To my final place of rest, Smooth mug of soft tea.

Then as I sit upon my rest

The draft sets upon me, Rustling curtains and Nipping at fingertips, Incessantly reminding me of my weakness.

I stared then at the dancing drapes Befuddled that they could betray me, For were they not cowering from the very purpose For which they were made? Why, oh God, can this cool breeze reject it so?

And so I pondered the drapes— What a thing they were to taunt me: Made for simple purpose To bring respite in daytime. But now they else greet wind, celebrating its arrival.

With raucous abandon they dance Taking gusted shape; Do they not abandon their post? Does the sun not revel In their naked unwitting sculpture?

Would that I could be— For Lord, what purpose do I serve Here in this quiet; To whom do I bring respite? To whom am I so attuned to greet?

For that is the higher good, Is it not so?

That such drapes were meant to only cover The barren from heat; Then to shirk such purpose for the wind.

For surely these drapes were cut clear Made for their purpose Why can it not be for me, oh Lord? How can even they lay aside their shade For the vanity of wind?

And in this moment my cup overfloweth And the Spirit of God came upon me;

Hot tea splashed on my lap and The sweet steam startled my nose.

And the tongues spoke A lilt in my ear, “Smell the drape-thru wind; The sun will yet meet shade. Shudder not my invitation.”