To those I have hurt, I now humbly pray,
forgive me, forgive me, this solemn day.
My hands are open, my heart laid bare,
like pages inscribed with a whispered prayer.
To those I have lifted but not enough,
I wish I had steadied when the journey grew tough.
May my intent, though imperfect, still be received,
as the breath of the shofar is heard and believed.
To those I neglected, whose needs I missed,
I ask for compassion, a gentler twist.
For silence was never the gift I would give,
yet mercy reminds me to learn how to live.
And to those who upheld me when shadows grew long,
you carried my spirit, you taught me a song.
You mended the garment where it had been torn,
and guided me gently toward being restored.
So I turn, and return, as the gates slowly close,
with gratitude deeper than anyone knows.
May the One who pardons, who shelters, who saves,
inscribe us for life, for love, for the days.

There I stood before the monument erected,
Somebody take me





