Matthew Rosen Marsh: Wild Weed

I only met Ester once at the Minyan Hadash service at New London Synagogue in early September 06. I was struck by the power of her prayers and her beautiful singing voice. We talked at the lunch afterwards and I invited her down to Exeter to help lead an alternative service there. I remember how genuinely flattered she was by the invitation. She was also interested in that she had visited the synagogue as a student but had thought it was just a historic building and hadn't realised that there was an active congregation there. She suggested bringing some of her fellow ex Western Region Jsoc students who had visited the synagogue with her and we were both enthusiastic about the prospects for her visit on 20th October. I emailed her afterwards to confirm our plans and she replied. There was a lull for High Holy Days and then I rang her to firm up arrangements. There was no reply. I rang her repeatedly and was puzzled and disappointed by her lack of response. We held the alternative service with an attendance of over 40 people - many people remarked on how much they enjoyed it and the sense of "ruach" (spirit) that they felt.
It was only a couple of days later that I found out about her death and just could not believe that someone who had seemed to alive and vibrant could be dead.

Clive Lawton came to lead a service at Exeter a month later and I read the following poem out in memory of her. Clive, afterwards, told us of holding Ester as a baby. I did not know Ester well but I remember the conversation we had very clearly and will always associate this poem with her:

Wild Weed
I want to open my eyes
Slowly.
I used to dream a lot,
But dreamland swallowed me.
I wanted to console,
But desire betrayed me.
Childhood enchantment there,
A storm in my arms.
I know an alien fire
Kindled my nights.
Tomorrow,
I shall be so far away
Do not search for me.
Those who will learn
To forgive
Will pardon my love for you.
Time will calm everything.
The one who loved me
Shall return from the desert
To your fields.
And will understand
I lived amongst you
Like a wild weed.
There were evenings
With aching yearning,
There were troubled havoc days.
There was hidden pain
And magic moments.
I remember a glance,
The touch of hands upon my shoulders.
I shall remain a passing shadow
In your fields,
A hidden secret.
Farewell,
I lived amongst you
Like a wild weed.

© Rachel Shapiro, translated from Hebrew by Tamar Berliner