I learn you again, after long separation.

Time, space — matrices that germinate knowing.

My loss becomes gain after patient gestation.

 

Home study – is it work, or vacation?

Unwanted confinement, or respite from going?

You reclaim me after long separation .

 

Since your bar mitzvah I’ve been a way-station,

A hot meal bolted, a quick change of clothing.

Your absence belied a silent gestation.

 

Now there is time for prolonged conversation.

You call to me from the table overflowing

With textbooks, as though there’d been no separation.

 

Your birth-cry, a segue from ordeal to elation,

Touched me no more than this sudden bestowing

Of presence, as you pass from scholastic gestation

 

To a hard-won yet transitory matriculation.

Heed: passing tests doesn’t mean you’ve stopped growing.

From matrix to matrix, repeat separation,

You’ll plunge once again into patient gestation.

Author

Julie Rosenzweig is a Jerusalem-based translator and mom. She advocates for good urbanism at the Times of Israel and on Medium.

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