Baruch November: Self-Portrait with the Baal Shem Tov

Let me fall if I must fall.
The one I will become
will catch me,
said the Baal Shem Tov.

You keep falling, but learn
nothing new. You land
in cold currents of regret,
sending shocks to your soul,
but it doesn’t awaken.

***

The Baal Shem Tov died on a sacred
holiday. His followers forbidden
to bury him, he buried himself:

Another selfless act
in a life of piety, while
you push yourself just
to pray in the morning—

Not stare at snow tumbling
down dark grey
Washington Heights sky—

And ask G-d to match you
with a woman whose lamp
does not go out at night.

***

If you lived in the time
of the Baal Shem Tov— wielder
of G-d’s hidden names—
you’d take a one-horse wagon
over Carpathian Foothills,
Ukraine’s hard, snowy roads,
hoping he’d bless you
with a family and the secrets
of the holy curves on Hebrew
letters to teach your children.

***

When the Baal Shem Tov closed his eyes
in the mikvah, he could see
the unity of all worlds;

You can hardly plan a trip
to Brooklyn for volumes
on the Torah’s soul,
no matter
how clearly
subway lines spread out
on the screen.

***

The world is full
of wonders and miracles,
said the Baal Shem Tov,
but man takes
his little hand,
covers his eyes,
and sees nothing.

***

Five dates with the slender
heart doctor from Flatbush
with improbable green eyes
and you’re bored.
The matchmaker tells you
not to screw this one up;
This girl likes you, but you
lack the imagination
needed to see her softly
inhabiting your future.

Only looking back
can you see her
promise—a glimpse
at the sun falling
into the sea over
your shoulder.

***

You want to believe down
the winding staircase,
up the twisting lane,
with the same power it took
to divide the Red Sea,
you will be united
with a woman
with a silver cup
of wine so sweet
you’ll almost forget
all the long years
of longing.

***

When you close your eyes,
you wonder where
that heart doctor is now;
it is too late.

You try to remember
her name—hidden
among the names of others
who deserved better.

***

The Baal Shem Tov taught that
everyone travels 42 journeys
in life, some fraught
with neglected chances,
lonely bedrooms.

But there is no place
for hopelessness:
Wherever you have been,
wherever you will go,
every particle is just
the presence
of G-d.

Ed. Note: Israel ben Eliezer (1698 – 1760), known as the Baal Shem Tov was a Jewish mystic and healer from Ukraine who is regarded as the founder of Hasidic Judaism. Baal Shem Tov means “Master of the Good Name,” a term for a holy man who wields the secret name of God. The little biographical information about the Baal Shem Tov comes from oral traditions handed down by his students and from legendary tales about his life collected in Shivḥei ha-Besht. A central tenet in the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching is the direct connection with the divine which is infused in every human activity and every waking hour. Prayer is of supreme importance, along with the mystical significance of Hebrew letters and words. — adapted from Wikipedia

Baruch November’s books include Bar Mitzvah Dreams (Main Street Rag, 2019). He teaches at Touro University.

Poem copyright 2024 Baruch November