my ritual too

we are pilgrims for one day
doing the yearly ritual.

we follow the path down, down to
where the sea beats these cliffs

we walk with ghosts on stones
1,200 years trod for this same purpose

we pass the stalls--
their bright colors and
tempting smells will wait

we wash our hands and mouths,
enter the cave.
standing before the bright red box
we throw coins with holes in their centers.
we shake the bell, clap the gods awake
and pray for a good new year.

My grandmother's family were Jewish.
On the other side--waspy Protestants.

I am who I am, but
will take all the blessings I can get
from whichever gods may be
watching over me.