My Rabbi, The Psychiatrist

The rabbi was wrong.
I walked into the study where he sat
And nervously I sat down
And waited for him to say something to me

“I can’t explain him; he’s magical”
My mother said to me on the drive over
And I believed her
Because when you hit rock bottom
You begin to believe in magic

I have been praying for an answer
With all my heart and soul
Swaying, crying, waiting for GD to
Shift my brain back into the right
Mode.

So I pull on the heavy oak doors
Conscious of my skirt length
And my gait

He looks at me for a long time before saying anything. It feels like
I’m being analyzed
by the most serious of
doctors.

Finally he asks for my Hebrew name
and mumbles a few prayers.
The only distinct words I hear are
‎שפרה בת ברכה

He goes on and on and all I can do is sit
Until he looks up and me
Makes direct eye contact
And says
You
Are
Healthy.

I whisper a thank you and then walk out. There wasn’t anything to say; he’s wrong
Healthy means happy and fit and excited and loving and caring and interesting and interested;
Would a healthy girl think the way I do?

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