I know Miriam like I know Enid. Mostly through midrash.
Their words, their stories shape our closeness. I feel we know each other in breathlessly intimate ways. We are partners. Sisters schemers confidantes
And at once so far removed. We never did have that conversation where everything would have been clear. That cup of tea remains for another life, another incarnation. I have no doubt.
You stood up to parents and zealous younger brothers. Clung to your mothers with ferocity. Led your sisters to know themselves; to dance, to believe their stories. Maybe now even more.
I came to know you most posthumously. With longing It breaks me open, and there I receive your truth. [End Page 93] The still, small voice that God is full in. That shatters preconceptions, demands that we live real lives.
Miriam and Enid weave around one another and I don't see a difference. Gentle warriors, the ultimate catalysts. Essentially fearless, their words define them. And sometimes get them into trouble.
I'm the youngest in this outfit. The whiz kid, the free-lance world-saver. But also blocked, cynical without a right to be. My well dried up when you left. I'm not sure what my voice sounds like yet. But to me it's something like yours. [End Page 94]
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Diana Miriam Jacobs Komisar is the niece of Enid Dame (z"l). Hailing from Baltimore and currently living in Jerusalem, she does religious peacework with Jerusalem Peacemakers and spends time with her husband and two cats. She tries not to settle for less than infinity.