Tu B'Shvat

You've long felt a bond with trees.
Watching them cycle, marking the seasons of the year...
    the weave of their bare branches against the winter sky,
    their pea green buds in spring,
    their gracious greens of summer, shielding you from heat,
    their brilliant foliage in the fall.

You know they hold instructions on how to live life... 
    to ever reach upward toward the light...
    to dance in your cycles...
    to be flexible, move in the winds, 
         yet stay anchored in the earth...
    to with your fruit, bring restoration to life.

You feel the depth of their roots,
know they hold within the mystery of transformation,
as do you.


Now in mid-winter, your soul feeling faint
from the weight of barrenness,
thirsting for signs of life,

you call upon the name of God,
El Ro-ei,One of Vision. 



You Who sees, El Ro-ei,
rouse me from my sleep, 
from my winter slumber. 

And in the light of the full moon
may my sap once more

And rise...

and rise...
and rise...

Bringing me into life again.



Help that which need die, shed,

clearing room 
for new growth.

El Ro-ei...
   Let me blossom in the chill of winter...
   May I lift my branches upward toward the sky...
     touch the stars...
     feel the earth beneath my feet...

Help me Waken.

May hope 
rise up my bones.

That I might reach up 
the moon's light.




Toward the Light.

Just as the trees do
on their New Year's Eve.


Photography Credits

First photograph: Vicki Hollander
Second photograph: Alon Kvashny
Third photograph: Frank Dobrushken