Erev Tu b’Av

A clearing and a valley with a river at twilight

Erev Tu b’Av

twilight where flesh and sorrow tumble
in fields not sure the end of each or
where beginnings tremble

moonlight scoops my armpits
arches my back
hands reach down to lift me from a shallow grave
then I help another out of theirs
we promise to return some night
leave the longing earth cradling earthworms and air

a groggy procession
in muddy white clothes
through the fragrant woods
to where grass holds secrets tight in fisted roots
and cool water tries to draw what’s hidden away

I raise my arms
a friend draws the dress over my head
harmony of blessing words
unraveling stories that no longer heal us
time dripping down our backs
soothing what can’t be held by the body alone
guarding each other with harmonies

after the currents carry away the ripples of the last immersion
we return to the banks to tend to
those outer edges of gender planet
warmth sealers          dance enhancers
our dresses cracked and dry
now wet
tahor
still stained

the night air seeks moisture slowly
naked bodies moonlit rocks
we braid ourselves back together
tying tzitzis to gather intention
into a physical reminder
this is what it takes
a joyous moment cradled like a beautiful grape
on the tongue squished and dissolved
and also tender daily care
of pruning washing weeding crying singing wanting

my cloak transforms when I drape it over her shoulders
his embroidery shimmering across their chest
a wealth of vows
each in another’s river-dipped burial shroud
we make our way dancing to the vineyards

six days after moshiach first screamed out into the world
born b’chol dor vador because khayav adam
we must see ourselves in our contexts
full of future
held by water
grasping onto torah
the smiling face approaching
would you like to join me in the field?

my desires dance far from perfect
close to flame
I ask for comfort
from my people
in this moment and right here
all I could ever want is to feel full and held
temporary joy
joy in temporality
I mourn for the security of choosing
and chosen
dig deeper into the ache and laughter
leaping moonward
pulled groundward

still holding our promise
we rush towards each other
held and sheltered
unsure and still okay

the fast that I desire does not come quickly
even a sturdy temple built slow
each gift honored
each laborer well cared for
will crumble and change

I pray in our crumbling
we continue to water the fields

long after these grapevines wither
may we tell stories of sweetness

 


 

Author’s Note

On this date, during the Second Temple period (500’s BCE – 70 CE) Jewish people would go out into the vineyards to dance under the full moon, choosing partners for that night and beyond.

As told by the Talmud, the “daughters of Jerusalem” wore white garments, each in someone else’s clothes, with the intention of everyone having access to nice clothes for the holiday within a class-stratified society. Ahead of time, they would ritually purify the clothing by immersing it in flowing water. It is often recounted that on this night, unmarried men would choose unmarried women to marry, but who’s to say it wasn’t queerer, filled with genderful exploration— as I read it, this was an opportunity to try on different clothing, explore possibilities with different partners.

In this poem, I play around with time, imagining a collective celebration not possible for me at the moment. You can read the annotated version with educational information about the holiday and referenced sources of inspiration here.

 


 

References and Resources for the Holiday

Miriam Saperstein is a writer and mixed media artist, originally from Metro Detroit. They are a junior at the University of Michigan, where they ask a lot of questions about Jewish histories, and how to build accountable, supportive communities. They host a monthly ritual space for weird, rad Jews and their friends. They can also be found cooking dinner for 20 or making zines about magic. Miriam is a 2020 New Voices/Jewish Currents Fellow.

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