The Moon of Iyar (April-May)


Imagine your soul coming into blossom alongside the trees and flowers, 
all now shouting hymns to life.

Imagine the soft, gentle hands of light
fondly stroking the beds of the earth, the top of your head,
the core of your heart.

Imagine your soul freed from slavery, wandering the wide expanse of wilderness,
your eyes trailing on the vast spread of sky, towering mountains all around you,
your soul calling upon the name of God,
the Place you return to.

in this Moon of  Iyar in the Land,
when the earth heats up toasting brown in the sun,
and feisty blue-globed thistles bristle on the hillsides,
when golden staves of barley are harvested and restless sheep are sheared,
when amber streams of honey are scooped up and stored, and
fruit-tree blossoms emit heady fragrance both by day and night,


I go back,
into the depths of the wilderness.

Where my people walked, slaves freshly redeemed.
Body freed,
spirit yet imprisoned.
Vicissitudes imprinted
upon their souls.


Even now, internally I know
this moon is our traveling time.

And I drift, 
etched with their memories.

You Who are my place.
Wherever I go, I learn, You are there.
Whenever I long for home,
I learn, it is in You.

You accompany my desert ramblings,
by my side,
through it all.


In Iyar, Moon of Light,
You offer me space in which to rest.

In Iyar, Moon of Nurture,
You offer me a place in which to recover
from the wizenings and hardships of life.

Each morning manna lies outside my tent.
My sandals do not become worn, nor do my clothes age.

Patient One, Who waits for me to heal,
Who waits for me to learn
that You are there and will not leave me.
That You will not fetter me,
You will not abandon me,
that You wait
from love of me.

Though my mind knows I'm free,
the rest of me learns more slowly.

Like light penetrating fog, this understanding takes time.
To be known, felt,

Freedom of body is the soil.
Yet freedom of spirit, to shine in soul,
to carve out pathways of light in the world,
that is Your call, that Your invitation.

So in this Moon of Iyar I begin again. 

To learn to seek You as

alon2-iyarSo sing me songs at dusk and
aid me heal
the torn parts of spirit.

Walk patiently beside me
as I move through the stony, barren places,
I must go.

Embrace me in my night,


and lead me home to You
when I wander,  lost.

Hold up the light of Iyar that I might be guided back to You.

HaMakom, my Place, The Place, 
gather me in gently.

Shelter me under Your wings.

Heal me, mend me, repair me,
revive me.

Succor me, remind me,
restore me,



Photography Credits

First and second photograph: Leonid Rozenfeld
Last photograph: Alon Kvashny