Of Prayer in Solitude

Dov Frank

I left to pray in a minyan of trees,
to sing the morning through,
And, broken-souled, I sat and sought
To be apart from Jews. 

I wondered if I would need
A new phrase or one of yore
To allow me to sing free
As if, at Sinai, I was once more

For solitude needs a new language
Which has not yet been made
By Jews throughout history
Who have, with humans, prayed

But with me, the trees meet
And pray with wisdom sage
Though they did not receive the Law
That God for sinners gave

Thus, when I see their swaying
Despite their rigid face
I learn the new language
And, with the trees, I pray