The final week of Omer: Malkhut

Each day I practice
qi gong looking
out the window
into my neighbor’s
garden, apple tree
blossoming, persimmon
still bare, gladioli erect,
roses spilling over,
pink naked ladies
bowing modestly
amidst tangles of greenery,
and above it all,
Tibetan prayer flags
billowing in stiff gusts
of wind off the Bay.

It’s time to lie down
in your own garden,
nose nestled into soil,
and share space with
ants, grubs, and ladybugs.
Put your ear to the
ground and listen
for seismic grunts,
water trickling over
deep down rocks.
Be part of that life.
Know that it’s also
inside you. Let it sing
your flesh, sting
your mind, cling to
your fingers and
knees. Yes, back away
from the mountain,
but stay close to
the ground. This
is how to prepare
for revelation.

Hod sheh’b’malkhut
Humility/splendor within
sovereignty/presence

This poem is part of Rabbi Diane Elliot’s collection of 49 poems, This Is the Day, Ha-Yom Yom, inspired by the ancient practice of counting the Omer.