Erev¹ Tu b’Av²
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 grave³
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 clothes⁴
through the fragrant woods⁵
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 immersion⁶
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
tahor⁷
still stained
the night air seeks moisture slowly
naked bodies moonlit rocks
we braid ourselves back together
tying tzitzis⁸ 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 vows⁹
each in another’s river-dipped burial shroud
we make our way dancing to the vineyards
six days¹⁰ after moshiach¹¹ first screamed out into the world
born b’chol dor vador because khayav adam¹²
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 people¹³
in this moment and right here ¹⁴
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 quickly¹⁵
even a sturdy temple built slow
each gift honored
each laborer well cared for
will crumble and change
I pray in our crumbling¹⁶
we continue to water the fields
long after these grapevines wither
may we tell stories of sweetness
Annotations
1. Evening (Jewish days start at sundown)
2. The fifteenth of (the month of) Av. Tu B’Av comes on the heels of Tisha B’Av, a day of mourning for many tragedies in Jewish history, including the destruction of the Temples. The holiday marks a turning point, and feels like a time of fortification before the deep introspection of the following month, the one in which we prepare for the High Holidays, including Yom Kippur.
3. The medieval commentator (and vitner) Rashi, connects the joyous holiday of Tu b’Av to death, writing that when the Israelites were traveling in the desert, they would dig and sleep in graves the night of Tisha b’Av (the 9th of Av— a date that in later history marked the destruction of both temples in Jerusalem, as well as many other tragedies in Jewish history). In the morning, whoever survived the night would emerge. In the 40th year, all who had lain down the night before emerged from their graves the morning of Tisha B’Av. Thinking they had gotten the date wrong, they continued to sleep in their graves for 6 days, until the 15th (tu b’av) when the full moon confirmed that it had been 40 years and the wandering in the desert would soon be over, as well as the punishment of death to those who did not believe g!d would take them out of wandering.
4. The rabbis compare Tu B’Av to Yom Kippur, as they are both times when unmarried women in Jerusalem would go out joyously into the fields wearing white. The clothes of Yom Kippur also evoke the white shroud many Jews are buried in.
5. Tu B’Av is also the day on which people would “stop cutting [fragrant] wood for the arrangement of wood on the altar [of the Temple]…Once the fifteenth of Av came, the force of the sun would weaken, and from this date they would not cut additional wood for the arrangement, because wood cut from then on would not dry properly and would be unfit for use in the Temple. Rav Menashe said: And the people called the fifteenth of Av: The day of the breaking of the axe, as they did not need the lumbering tools until the following year. (Author’s adaptation of Sefaria community translation of Bava Batra 121b:4)”
6. Mikvah: immersion in flowing water (or rainwater) which changes a Jewish person’s ritual state. Objects can also be immersed, like the garments for Tu b’Av. Often described as “purifying,” but that translation doesn’t encompass the whole ritual worldview that mikvah comes through, since purity is often interpreted in a Christian context. Preparing for mikvah includes untangling that which is tangled, and removing barriers between the person and the water.
7. Rough translation: pure
8. Tzitzis: strings/fringes tied in a specific way, hanging off the edge of a garment. They remind those who wear them of the mitzvos, or obligations to each other and to g!d.
9. More wearing white connections: white is also worn by some Jewish grooms at their weddings, as well as on Yom Kippur, when we say liturgy which annuls the vows we have made the year prior. It’s a promise of being able to recommit to the ways we want to treat each other, connecting back to some interpretations of marriage.
10. six days— almost seven
that shabbos number
almost fulfillment
so close to perfection
(as if that’s what we wanted)
Shabbos/Shabbat: seventh day of the week, day of rest
Beshert: meant to be, aka soulmate (yiddish)
11. Tu b’Av is six days after Tisha b’Av. It is said that the moshiach (messiah) will be born on Tisha b’Av turning it from a day of mourning into one of joy. What if the Moshiach, is us in all generations, obligated to liberate ourselves in the specific contexts we find ourselves in?
12. Beginning of the Hebrew phrase: “in every generation a person is required to see themself as if they too left mitzrayim/ the narrow place/biblical Egypt)”. These words are part of the Passover seder, a time when some Ashkenazi Jews wear white. Our liberation (from narrowness, into moments of temporary mutual aid and care and support) depends on us knowing that time is not linear, that we were at Sinai receiving the Torah after leaving mitzrayim, that we all have the Torah (wisdom/learning/teachings) we need to take care of each other.
13. A variation on the verse “Nachamu, nachamu ami, comfort, comfort my people…” which is read during the Shabbat between Tisha B’Av and Tu B’Av.
14. In the spiral of Jewish time, all time is all time, all rabbis speak to each other, and I am both in the vineyard with the daughters of Jerusalem and in this painful time.
for now
besherts of body, moon, shekhina, entangle and coagulate
I collect myself like a cord of fragrant wood
bind myself, to myself
cloaked in borrowed clothes
I dance with my yearning in a nighttime field
Shekhina: divine presence, aspect of g!d, also dwelled in the temple
15. reference to Isaiah 58, which is read on Yom Kippur.
16. On the surface, this holiday celebrates love and joy. However, a joyous holiday can be alienating or lonely for many reasons, including recent (or not) breakups, relationship troubles, or not having queer relationships honored. We live in a society that privileges hetero+romantic partnership above other kinds of connection, and many interpretations of the holiday reflect that.
Other reasons this communal-based holiday might be difficult is isolation. This isolation can be caused by the current pandemic, and by the ableism, racism and classism present in many Jewish spaces (not that it is unique to Jewish spaces, it just hurts in a specific way). This holiday also brings up questions of how to connect to land-based ritual when the land where we live is under brutal ongoing colonization. These are just a few reasons, and everyone has their own experiences. I wanted to write a poem that expressed my longing for community to celebrate with, about finding temporary joy rather than the unchanging and unattainable “perfect state” that is unlocked once someone finds a heterosexual partner.
