The Sabbath day is approaching. In a couple of hours, the sun will bid farewell. The couples will walk to shul and split at the mehitza, and the Friedmans and the Carlebachs will be heard again. The streets will speak in Yeshivish and the shabbat shaloms will sound.
New York City takes a breath and smiles.
Even she can learn repose.
There is a scent in the air that seems to promise stillness. There is a scent that fills her soul with hope.
Eyelids flutter.
The musicians are painting murals as the artists stop and stare. Red. Silver. She curls into herself and uncovers color. She thinks they'll understand.
Hand takes hand and she is no longer falling. She feels worthy of being saved.
The Queen will soon reveal her presence. I bow low and accept her prayer.
