My Tallit (prayer shawl)

As I was standing at my pew,
preparing to begin the year anew,
my tallit was obstinate as I prayed.

First it slipped the shoulder on the left,
then, just as I straightened it with delicacy and deft,
it slipped the other just as quick.

In a slippery, slapstick, sidelong show,
digging in its fabric to and fro,
it refused to stay, in its proper place.

Then I heard it cry and quiver
as it blubbered, What am I, chopped liver?
You can’t expect me to be your perfect partner in the year ahead.

Alas, in recent years and months and days,
I have wandered from my attentive ways,
and neglected to look after it as I should.

It has served me well these 20 some odd years,
my constant companion, assuaging doubts and fears,
as I faced the day of judgement every fall.

When it was young and freshly new,
crisp white had sparkled against the blue,
drawing admiration near and far.

Now, somewhat yellowed and dark with age,
yet soft and comfy, even sage,
it has held its shape with knots still tightly tied.

It deserves better that what I’ve paid,
if I expect it, upon my shoulders to be laid.
For I am truly sorry for the hurt that I have caused.

We’ll get you cleaned and spruce you up,
have you pressed and starched and, yup,
lay with pride this coming Yom Kippur.

And to all of you with whom I’ve had some dealings,
I am sorry if I have hurt your feelings.
Please forgive me as we start the year anew.

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