It surrounds me now,
    flowing through
    the
    pipe-veins
                  of
    my
house.
    Seeking a
                       deeper      connection with my heritage
                I turn on    the faucets,
                                           running          the shower
                                                     and
                                                             the sinks,
                          barefoot in my living room,
                          raising a crystal clear glass to my lips,
                          because,
    however inland and landlocked,     Jews are
                                                        indebted to
                                                        the power of water.
    From the salt water on our seder plates,
    reminding us   of tears,
                         of that great sea    parting in Egypt
                                           and
                                           the end of one oppression,
                                           the beginning of another.
    I let it settle
                on
    my tongue     for the Babylonians,
                those kidnappers before milk-carton bulletins,
                who

turned                   the seas         into    rivers,
        leading Jews on their first death march,
        toward Babylon,
    once again tasting the salt water
                                      of tears.
                            Through years
                                     and
                                     cultures the river swelled,
                                     flowing
    upwards       and
                                                            outwards
    into Czechoslovakia
              and under
    the feudal rule of Christian Kings,
                                     where the Jewish ghetto
                                     was                plagued
                                     by                  death
                                     and                persecution
                                     running in syndication.
    Like a man     parched and dehydrated,
    I
    down
    my
    glass   
                for the desperation
                                   of the Jews
                                   of Prague,            living
                                                             under
                                                             blood-libel,
             who turned once more,
             beseechingly,
             enviously       toward the river
                                   and
                                              the strength,
                                              the freedom
                                   of that water, which
    alone
              had     the     power         to escape,
                                                      to leave the land
                                                          just
                                                          as
                                                          it
                                                          had
                                                          come
                                                          in.
    I quench my thirst
                      for the champion they raised     up
                                                                        from
                                                                  the mud
                                                                  of    the
                                                                  banks, and
                                                                  for G-d's
                                                                     name,
                                                                        etched
   by the great rabbi       into its forehead,
                                                                  to try
                                                                  and
                                                                  contain
            the power       of the waters              that
                          had given it substance.
   I sit on the bathroom floor, where
                                         the bathtub
                                           overflowing,
                                               spills out across the tile,
            reminding me
   of the movement
                 of water, and
           the mighty ocean,
                        longer than any river,
                   wider than any sea,
                              brimming with the power
                          to reshape ghettos
                                     into boroughs and then
                                suburbs,
                                         turning shtetl into strip mall
                       and synagogue into sanctuary.
   Outside,                     G-d has punctuated my mood
                                                   with rain clouds,
   writing a new prologue to my meditation
   in         the       staccato          tapping
   of         a          deluge              on
   my                   roof.
                                    Somewhere
                                     in the air                    above
                                                                      me,
         in the sky above
         the drywall and shingles,
                       a spectrum of brilliant
                               light separates the gray and
                                          the sun-soaked blue,
                                                     a treaty drawn
                                                     in the air,
                                                     for our ancestor,
                                                     whose life was first
                                                              carried-away
                                                     by water.

                                                        --Mike D. Walter