Through the mechitza, that guardian of modesty,
I watch brothers, father, plus grandfather dance,
They grow wings while spiraling with our Torah.
Under the chuppah, sandwiched between imot,
I twirl around my chatan. We’ll foster a home
From the covenant and our worship of Hashem.

Eyes fastened, I pull my fingers toward me,
My Shabbat candles fully animate kadusha.
Exhaling small requests, I inhale just purity.
Carefully, I wrap the wimple. His brit, then
His pidyon haben mark our fledgling family.
We’re part of twelve holy tribes. Life circles
The Light.

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