grayscale photography of space
Photo by Huebert World on

A Diamond Dust of Hebrew Verse

God softly suffuses a fine spray
of shimmering Alef Bet snowflakes,
a diamond dust of Hebrew verse,
falls to us in flurries upon the frost.
We build our Mishkan, a tabernacle,
 deep within the snowbound woods,
and there is where She is found.

During the bruhaha of a gale at night,
She rebukes the Lashon Hara, 
the gossip of the woods that scrape, 
as She screams that all are saints
who look beyond the veils for God!

Royal blue is the color of Her robes,
folds of cerulean clouds lie at Her feet,
She is queen of life and light
through the muck of swamps that give and take,
where even Horned Frogs harrumph Her song.

So we pray…
God is magnified and sanctified,
 She is all that’s holy and divine!
To be close to Her 
amidst the angels and the saints,
this desire is deep within our hearts,
in our Mishkan that moves from place to place
for we’ve been forced to be a nomadic race.

In the prickly thickets of our time
we live in a world that is on a tilt,
our lives have gone askew and awry,
still are spirits are somewhat upright.
God is in the stem cells of all souls,
 the Holy One who shines on through
the cracks of our broken hearts,
creating a rainbow where no hope lies.

Her light shines through the debris
of unborn seeds and skeletal leaves
that we sweep off our Mishkan’s floor,
brushing off our broken hearts that drip with blood,
past all our ifs, buts, and barren souls
where nothing takes hold and grows. 
Our Mishkan is made from all Her laws,
where we study God’s word in tens.
It has a floor of peat which springs forth birth,
our ceiling is not made of expectations,
for our thoughts must rise above.

A candle’s bit of fire
burns off the beliefs that lie,
shines upon our worried lives,
who are often lost at such a cost.
Through our scars God finds a way,
 giving us a rainbow amidst the blue,
like the arch promised so long ago.
There is a ruby red fox within the hollow of a trunk,
 God’s treasure with black boots and white tipped tail,
 knows Her cycle of life and death
 are intrinsically the soul of Her.
A freezing fleet of driven snow
 flies past the pine needles staying put,
though battered by the howling wind,
inspiring us to stay the course.

About Lisa Tremback

I started writing in Elementary school and was published in school and local newspapers. I graduated from Kishwaukee College with an A.A. in English and a certificate in Computer Operations. I later studied under the poet, Bill Knox, at Columbia College in Chicago. I have been published at Colorado State University's underground newspaper. I enjoy writing almost every day and love to write about my relationship with G-d.

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