Shabbat I

I would wake up on a Saturday morning
Into the cool light of just after dawn,
That light that seems to chase you
Because you stayed up too late the night before.
And I lay there before my Judge
And I scream in my head,
I scream, Today!
Today, Father, give me rest.
And I'm praying,
Because I don't have enough faith.
There's not enough in my heart
When I see men and women
And children
Striving for something that cannot be earned.
I watch cold hearts grow colder
And fired hearts turn hard.
I hear words and rumors,
Gossip at its harshest.
Get out of my head!
Because I don't want to see
And I don't want to hear.
So sit in rows,
Sit in a circle,
Because it doesn't matter—
It would be better to stand.
But none of it matters—
It's all meaningless.
Go outside,
Find someone to care about,
Find someone to talk to.
But don't talk—listen!
Listen…to the words of the teacher.
Our schoolmaster says
To work for six days
And on the seventh day rest.
But this one thing should be clear:
You cannot earn that rest.
At least, not by striving after the wind.
This day is important,
This day is a weightier matter,
But this day is never for strife.
This day is for rest and peace and rejoicing.
So I would get up in the morning,
Prepare myself to smile,
Prepare myself for pain,
And remember the words of the Teacher,
"The Sabbath was made for man,
And not man for the Sabbath."