nothingness.

Not here, not there

Immobilized to move back

Into familiar territory,

Far too petrified to step completely

Into the new land that lies

On the other side of the border.

I stagnate in awe,

Not of something greater than me,

Just at the answers

I cannot find,

But keep searching for.

In pieces, I live.

Fossilized between layers of myself

I cannot seem to let go of.

I read, unbelieving but still transfixed,

Delving into the mysteries of this sefer

I once called divine.

(I still sometimes think there is something

Divine about its poetry)

I still wind my arms with leather

Almost every day,

I do not know why,

But something in the ritual is comforting.

I still prepare food carefully,

Not mixing the instruments of preparation,

Hoping not to fail

My friends and their friends,

By this lack of belief I would probably

Release if I could stand to live a lie

For even a moment.

Well, I do live a lie,

But at least somewhere deep inside

All these quiescent layers

There there lies a me,

That knows this is a performance,

And somehow just knowing that

Keeps me upright,

Ready to someday step

They spin it around you as if a magic spell,

“You are safe,”

And maybe on some level it is true.

In this current moment,

Nobody is actively hurting me.

I am lying in my bed, with 4 walls around me,

And a lock on my door,

And I am currently, at this moment, not being harmed.

But they told me I was safe,

When my phone was being bombarded

With graphic details of what was going to be done to me,

And a person behind those messages.

They told me I was safe,

When my house was infringed upon

While I lay in the hospital,

And I could do nothing.

They told me I was safe,

When they stalked me

Both over the internet and at my home

Just to tell me I was not.

They told me I was safe,

But they have my address

And they know every waking moment

That I have remembered the layout of their crimes,

And that if any opportunity came for justice,

And to stop their crimes from continuing onto the next generation,

I would take it in a heartbeat.

They told me I was safe,

But my abusers told me I was better off as fertilizer,

And my abusers are the ones with every winning card,

And I have nothing.

They told me I was safe,

But these walls around me depend on my silence,

My ability to eat depends on keeping them happy,

And I feel unable to sustain this sick arrangement.

Who can I trust?

Where do I belong?

When will I be happy?

I argued

Because your intentions were not good

You wanted me to feel owned,

You wanted me to feel like I have nothing,

Like I am nothing,

Because my body-mind does not work like you think it should,

And I have never been able to support myself,

Because I live off the whim of the government,

Live in fear of being told I will no longer get even

The pittance they allow me,

Not out of good will,

But the truth is:

You are right.

I do not own my money,

It all can be recuperated at any moment,

I do not own my clothes,

My Judaica,

Definitely not my home, but that much is obvious.

I exist in this world with everything fluid,

A clerical error or some DOGE pawn using AI

To figure out if the poverty I lived through was

Not enough of poverty

Able to take the money back I want to feel belongs to me at any moment,

And yes I own nothing.

This is how this country treats disabled people,

I will never have savings,

I will never have a home to call my own,

I will never have anything,

And you wanted to make me feel like nothing,

And I fought you;

When your mind rebels?

Rightfully so, I would think,

Against the twisting of our texts,

Or is it a twisting?

If I were to crease the pages that hurt,

In this beautiful ancient tale,

I’d be marking too many pages to count.

Kohelet remarks: who can straighten,

What He has twisted?

Who can twist it further, too?

They can though,

Finding in its pages some not-quite-forgotten law,

Learned but no longer practiced,

And using it to do something,

That others will be shoving under the covers again,

Scared it will become a pattern.

And then there are the problems that they

Couldn’t shove far enough down for the light

To no longer shine on them.

The women waiting for divorce bills,

Chained to already dead marriages

By those who found in the Torah a justification.

I study the laws in my free time,

Because my mind never leaves far from

Their grasp.

I can never hate these laws,

Even the ones that have been used million

Times to hurt me.

They’re like sour candy, addictive despite the

Burn. I would set my mind at rest within

Their edicts if I could,

Conscience be damned.

But my brain revolts for the millionth time,

Wondering about the G-d that

Supposedly revealed this Book,

More mystery than revelation it seems,

More hidden than illuminating,

But so many beautiful colors

Garments worn out of a burning house fire

To avoid the prohibition of carrying,

Scraps without identifying signs,

Left scrounged over from a banquet

I was not on the guest list for,

Patched together into something

Resembling a Shabbat meal.

The corners of the field,

Left ownerless for paupers to pick over,

Until the last tired pauper came with his cane,

And that was me.

Some of my chinuch feels much like a stolen lulav,

Not at all like a flame that can be transferred freely

On a festival, without substance,

Without taking something surreptitiously,

Without its former owner losing something,

And as a result the taken flame being bounded by his feet.

I feel I’ve taken something,

From every person I convinced to help me learn,

Because they often paid a high cost,

And I have nothing to return the favor with.

Or because I hid something of myself, at least at first,

to bypass their hardening their hearts before they could see

That despite all this that feels somewhat like theft,

Torah is my inheritance too,

And I am so thirsty at its watering grounds.

And really?

I am in between a rock and a hard place,

And every surface is covered in thorns,

But I have absolutely nowhere to go,

And though the walls are descending inward,

And the air is slowly getting harder to breathe,

I find myself feeling secure in my little place,

As if accepting my fate,

Perhaps it is love that ruins me,

Perhaps your words still ring on my heartstrings,

Perhaps it is conditioning,

Perhaps it is just that I’ve resigned myself

To my pitiful fate,

And it’s easier to pretend the spiked walls

Are not so sharp to the touch.

I told you I would disappear,

I’m shrinking,

I feel it.

I didn’t know this would be how I go out.

I just knew I couldn’t stay in this moment

With the walls closing in around me.

I just knew this trap was too well designed

For an escape.

Asserting myself is impossible,

Taking up space a disaster.

I shall close my eyes,

And imagine thorns

G-d of the double kidney,

G-d of trillions of ways to live,

And trillions to perish,

G-d of the unexplored depths of the sea,

And the universe,

G-d of black holes,

G-d of evil happening to good people,

And G-d of a million attempts to try to find out why,

Each one inadequate in every direction my mind can grasp,

G-d of unknown diseases,

And quantum physics,

And string theory,

And a million things I cannot wrap my mind around.

In a universe of mysteries: one more.

Why must your creation struggle so much,

To wrap their mind around my creation,

Incongruous mind and body guiding me down

A path traveled before, but viewed as abhorrent?

You who watch stars collapse,

Would you wonder at someone like me?

I do not think so- I am a conscious part of your universe,

I do not think my transition across genders would startle You in the least,

Oh Maker and Understander of mysteries I could not fathom.

I am but one part of the infinite diversity of your creation,

Why do I still find myself entranced,

Thumbing books and reciting prayers

That have been recited since ancient times?

Why can I not tear back my gaze,

Though my thumbs bleed from the crispness

Of the pages which I’ve discovered?

Why is this all so beautiful to me,

That I would’ve torn myself to shreds

If I could even bear to exist in pieces?

Why am I still swaying to the melodies,

That my people sing through joy and despair?

Why does everything feel so meaningless

When I question the reason behind

The passages that cause harm,

And find a mirror reflecting humanity standing in front of me?

Why do I still want to plunge myself into

The depths of these texts,

Even as I wish to run from their cruelties?

Why can I not stop seeking answers

Within this worn yet gleaming scroll,

Even as my conscience eschews it?

Where are you, G-d of hiding and revelation?

If this is Your book, and You knew

These passages would be instruments of harm,

To people like me,

Can I even claim You love me?

How can I worship You when You have stayed silent

In the face of catastrophes?

Must I hide my face too?

I wish not to disappear into the pages

Of history. I want to be a light.

I want to be something beautiful,

And then I want to see that beauty reflected back at me.

I think I see a glimpse,

But then it is back to just a shadow of its glory.

And I am left to wander the wilderness

For everything is in it.

I turned it,

I gave my heart fully to it.

I made sure everything is in it,

By structuring my life around it.

Suddenly, I found I knew nothing else,

And I plunged a tiny portion of its depths,

And found so much beauty,

But so many sharp points,

Stabbing me at vulnerabilities

I didn’t even know I had.

I turned it, I turned everything to face it,

Gave over my freedom to its laws,

And found myself more empty for the struggle.

Can those who still turn their lives around it

Forgive me for going off to wander?

Will I lose both it,

And all those I’ve met while turning it over?

Truth be told,

I’m still turning it over,

Still entranced,

Still trying to break its gaze.

My eyes are still on you,

But my feet walk right past you.

Hoping to feel less alone,

And they reach into my chest of loneliness,

Into the part of my heart that is soft and tender

And lonely, so very lonely,

And slam it against my rib cage

Without breaking a sweat

Their calm expression a grim reminder

Of how I deserve nothing less,

And of how terribly alone I walk

In this topsy turvy world.

Please do not dig the knife in

Any further,

I already can barely walk

Miss waking from nightmares to

A kind message wishing me good morning

And though I am selfish,

For you I did feel yearning,

Miss the hopeful way you made me feel,

Like my life would not be always be gloom and drear,

I know it’s too much to expect a savior,

But what else would you do when

Surviving involves such a breach in your morals,

I would’ve loved you,

I am loving,

I have lots to give and I am not just a black hole,

You thought me kind but could not love me,

And for that I cannot blame,

I am hard to love I know.

But this all has been a massive shame.

Because hope is all I have,

And when I learn it is not always real,

I become less tuned in to its ideals,

I can make a big deal

Out of nothing,

Just wishful thinking.

Please forget me,

In my pain and my silences,

Live your life without the burden

Of the ones who have enshrined

This pain into my body,

It is mine to bear not yours,

Though I did not ask for this either.

Please forget the sadness of my life,

The way I’m always trying to make something

Worth living and reaching walls

My wishes for you to rescue me were not your fault,

Though you might’ve told me earlier

That you didn’t feel the same,

The true reason for my sadness

Is not something I can find blame.

I built a castle in the sand,

Knowing the powerful nature of the tides,

I just can’t stop feeling sad

That this world has been so unkind.

You, my dear, are not the source of my hurt,

That is so much older,

For me this world has been so much colder

Than I could bear as a child or now,

Wipe the stress off your brow,

And think not of me but of happier things,

And I will try my best

When I alluded to my past?

I’m fragile,

I can put up a front,

But inside I’ve been begging

since we met

For you not to hurt me,

Because I’ve been hurt

So many times before.

How could you be so callous?

How could you dangle hope in front of me,

Then play me like a fool.

How could you be so selfish?

To string me along

With imaginations of a life I could

Feel was worth living,

When you never felt a spark.

To dangle everything I’ll never have

In front of my face like a hook,

Not just love,

But someone to share my day with,

Someone to bounce thoughts off,

Someone with whom to beat off the loneliness

Of my life,

Someone to imagine something better with,

Then to tell me it was all an illusion,

Wishful thinking,

Yet it is the only thing

That keeps me moving

And though perhaps,

I am simply moving in circles,

In this freezing weather,

Moving keeps me alive.

You say I must love myself

Before I can be loved,

But I’m focused more

Simply on survival,

Self love seems so far

On the scale of needs,

I need to get out of this frozen chill,

But I’ve tried a million paths

And they all bring me back to here

Hopeless and alone.

It’s less about wanting

To be loved,

And more about praying for someone

With some kind of transportation

Outside of this arctic landscape

That has been constructed for me,

All the self love in the world

Will not get me out of here,

And yet,

People want warmth,

And I’ve been frozen for too long

To provide anything

That would inspire someone

To help me.

Pity is not enough,

Pity inspires people to leave a bit of cash

For the starving fellow,

Out in the cold,

Not to provide him

With the steady supply of support

That this world requires