This month’s Oculus column features a poem by Ann Hurwitz, a member of the shul’s newly organized group devoted to a broader spectrum of the arts. The next meeting of the group is Monday, July 26, at 7 p.m. Call the shul at 631-477-0232 and leave a message for Judith Weiner or Saul Rosenstreich with your interest in exploring the arts through presentations and discussions.

The poet conveyed to The Shofar her thoughts on the creation of The Doorway. “Our synagogue has always had a magical quality for me — the dramatic chandelier in the middle of our tiny sanctuary; the carved woodwork of the bima; the fact that in our early history, there was a mikveh beneath the sanctuary, which is also the place where treasured prayer books we no longer use are kept. Also, our closeness, always, to water on the North Fork. The poem arises from imagining how some of these might come together. The last line, which connects to me personally, also connects to the holiest day of our calendar and to our history.”

The Doorway

A door in the water opened,

in the water under the sanctuary

and I entered, eyes closed.

Within this dream

I had a second dream.

The stashed boxes beneath the water,

the ones that held the sacred

books, expanded and burst

and the books floated up,

their pages untied from loosening

bindings. And the words separated,

the individual letters inflating

like life preservers.

There were warm spots and cold spots

and the taste of salt as if it were the sea.

The water lifted me and as I swam,

sidestroke and crawl, breaststroke

and backstroke, in an endless

circle in this small space,

the letters rejoined and pasted themselves

to my hips and shoulders, my drenched

chest, nested in my hair.

Gasping for air I breathed the saved

words until my time was up.

Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.