shabbes didn't come to me like a queen this week she came like a wall
she came like a thick slab of mud, or a defensive line-backer
like a man whose job it is to simply be big and in-the-way
shabbat didn't come to me like a lover this week, she came like a barricade
a thing beautiful in its practicality, not in its aesthetic
a highway median with no foliage,
just enough concrete to do its job
shabbat was: "Lights out!"
and mommy's hand flipping the switch off with no discussion, closing the door
it was: "you can weasel your way
you can weasel your way out of your body and presence
with a thousand upon thousand excuses
for 6 days
"you can shrink in to your 9x15 glass pane of a world for so many hours
"you can take your breath for granted,
you can numb yourself for safety
you can fall back into your habits,
confuse your worth with your work
"you can run for these-many-days
from yourself
but when you run into me
there is no further you can go."
shabbat came like those fake tunnels painted into a wall in a cartoon
and i didn't welcome her in
i submitted to her strength
because god made her not just
for wine and flames and family song, but
for the same reason she raised the cliffsides against the tides
or pressed the void of space against our sky
becase
at some moment, we just cannot go on
and she knows that if she didn't stop us,
hard,
we'd try
and this week I tried
and I learned that shabbes
doesn't come dressed in robes
she comes in work boots
and I felt her grab my shoulders, press me down, hush me quiet
soft my gaze, shut my screen, quiet my mind
and slow my breath
i felt her love me
by not moving
an inch
shabbes tamed me, this week
with the tactile elegance of a bunker or a brick
i crumbled at her weight
collapsed in pure exhaustion
so grateful
just to wrap my arms around those mud-coated boots