the sound of the shofar surprises

in the high end shopping mall

 Lululemon shoppers stop

sliding the hangers bearing rows of tights

each one the cost of a week’s refugee rations

as the clear long call fills the air.

Then the broken notes make me remember

how fragmented is my awareness

how I recall my sins and good deeds together 

and don’t always know which

is which.

The last call comes as I descend the stairs

to the garage and my car.  

the mall has become a house of prayer.