Portland Magazine
March 9, 2021
By Alicia Jo Rabins
Illustration by Leia Kaprov
The mask feels at home on my face
Like a worn key in a front door’s lock
I make cinnamon rolls without a recipe
And it works, like a miracle
We wipe the counters twenty times a day
Pour the children glasses of milk over and over
When we open the refrigerator
To grab the jug’s thick plastic handle
A brightness inside stands sentry
Holding us in its light for a moment
I used to imagine the refrigerator bulb
Stayed on all the time
Like the Everlasting Light
That hangs before the Holy Ark
In every synagogue
But now that I am older and have seen
How everything can be lost in a moment
I understand two things:
One, the refrigerator is dark
When closed
And two, in every synagogue,
Someone changes that lightbulb
Some custodian or rabbi
Or teacher or congregant or volunteer—
And though this sounds like the start
Of a joke, it is the opposite.
In the face of all that would extinguish us
We pour milk, we bake, we take turns, wear
Masks, we keep the light burning,
We keep each other alive.
ALICIA JO RABINS is an award-winning writer, musician, and Jewish educator. She is the author of two poetry books, Divinity School and Fruit Geode, and has released three albums (and accompanying study guides) with Girls in Trouble, her indie-folk song cycle about Biblical women.
University of Portland
5000 N. Willamette Blvd.,
Portland, Oregon 97203-5798
503.943.8000
This website uses cookies to track information for analytics purposes. You can view the full University of Portland privacy policy for more information.
