Jew Girl - A Secret Prayer


Dedicated to the Jews of Islam and the Asiatics; to the Black Hebrews who came as cargo to the Americas (you know, the ones that they never told you about); and to those who were begot in the Diaspora and those who came as Rahav and Root, strangers in the land ... to all of us making that soul journey home. 

Dedicated to the life and memory of
Ofra Haza.

Jew Girl

I’m black as Cochin

Jew as the Nile

A Hebrew of Avraham

Yisra’el’s child 

I’ve danced with David

Felt the stare of Michal

Turned the skirts of Islam

‘Cause I’ve lived in that House 

I’m your Diaspora

Your secret, in tents

From the whispers and wadi

Flow my tears of relent 

You open the door

To the sword of ben-Nun

Hear the Shofarot sounding

The remnant has come 

I have swam the Seas of Suf

And walked across the answer

Yes, I, the Spirit Dancer

I’m like Nomad, Bedouin stride

I’m a Gypsy, desert star

To follow me, go far 

There are six points to my horizon

-- You captured me

-- And scattered me

-- But (baby), I’m not dyin’ 

I’m that Ashkenazim twist --

Falasha in a bottle --

A Midzarim dream --

An Asiatic saga --

I’m that Ethio-Apher surmise

A Sephardic summer willow

Hasidim on my pillow 

I am Jew Girl, going home

I am Jew Girl, going home 

I‘ve got Yerushalayim

On my mind

Eretz Yisra’el’s my footin’

Mashiach’s on time 

This Daughter of Zion

Many wounds she has bared

Man looks at her body

But, the soul Yah declares 

Jew Girl, going home ...

Jew Girl, going home ... 

I’m lookin’ it to the East --

I’m takin’ it from the West --

I’m shakin’ it (baby) I’m shakin’ it

To the place where I’ll find rest 


I was not born beauty, too long to look upon
But I was born free
Free from a womb of peace
Into a world of savory

I waited, pressed against the slope of
My mother's back, furrowed across her brow
Soaked in the folds of her cover, clinging to her
Tangles, pressing her bowels with heaviness

Until I moved her, and I came
Such, as I was

My mother protests that my cry was
Round as the full moon, yellowed across the sky
Seen, as strong as if heard
But they would not hear me ....


My ish moves like yada in the dark
Slipping silk, a whispered trace, down my spine
Rocking like the belly of a breathing sea
My ish moves like yada
Yada in me

Like wine sipped through betulah rose petaled lips
Dropping ruby to my body, flame to my breasts
Like the tongue of fire mirrored in its dance
Like the rain falls to diamonds in the night
Like tallit, set to breeze --

My ish moves like yada,
Yada ...

For he knew me.



From her birth, Nikeivah,
to the finish,
you will walk
with the prayers
and cries
of a girl (yaldah);
speak upon the heart
of a young woman (naarah)
and live the peshurs
of a woman's (ishah) love,
swimming deep
within her passion
for life,
and life no less
than abundantly.
I introduce to you,
A timeless setting,
a hologram
that will swallow you
whole and take you
deep within
the pages,
again and again.
For true
you will be lost,
and then, found -
- and if you are able,
you will
follow her home.



As white as the rising moon,
quickly skipping like a young girl,
My heart and spirit are in Her hands...

Rabbi Shalom Shabazi




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