when one of the rituals--as consistent and necessary as breaking the matzoh during Passover--is explaining our traditions to the non-Jewish people that have become a part of our family. I dunno. I wasn't exactly reminded of the following poem, but happened to read the poem later and was reminded of yesterday's brunch. Translated from Kabir by Minnesota's own Robert Bly, I found it in The Paris Review Book of Heartbreak, Madness, Sex, Love, Betrayal, Outsiders, Intoxication, War, Whimsy, Horrors, God, Death, Dinner, Baseball, Travels, The Art of Writing, and Everything Else in the World since 1953.
The Breath
from Max Ross: The Rake: Cracking Spines: Poem Worth Reading: Bubbie: The Four-Foot-Ten Professor
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