All of a sudden, I started getting older. I was young, and then youngish, for a very long time. That is, I was not especially aware of body parts, of what aging actually means.

Books are the way I understand life. I read some books, but they tended to be prescriptive — about what foods to eat, what yoga positions to do. Maybe we all have to write our own stories, our own prayers.

I’m getting older.
I’ve never prayed before
although on some occasions
I mumble and sing
When the times
Seem appropriate.
But now, for reasons
Of body parts,
Especially teeth,
And friends,
For reasons of Republicans
And the world I’ve started praying.
My prayers are poems
And music. They are not intended
for any deity. Even a Good Woman
Of All Genders and Colors.
They’re written every single day.
For you.

Author’s Note: Some years ago when we were both teaching at Parsons School of Design, Matthew Septimus and I decided to collaborate. Our intention was to capture holy people and holy places, all that transcended the ordinary, with his pictures and my words. Over the years we began to consider our project as a kind of prayer, how prayers would be if they were pictures and poems. This is one of an eight-part series titled Postcards for Hanukkah.