Tashlich, poem by Rafael Jesús González

These are the days of awe —

time of inventory

         and a new beginning

when harvest of what we sowed

         comes in.

(What have we sown

         of discord &
terror?

Where have we fallen short

         of justice?)

The scales dip & teeter;

there is so much to discard,

so much to atone.

When our temples stood

we loaded a goat

         with our
transgressions

                  and sent it
to the wild.

Now we must search our pockets

for crumbs of our trespasses,

our sins to cast upon the rivers.

The days are upon us

         to take stock of our
hearts.

                  It is time to
dust

the images of our household gods,

         our teraphim,

                                        our lares.