Chevron

Walking up the steps
to the cave of our fathers
and mothers.
I look to the right
and see the stage being set.
Hear the tech guy on the mike
chanting
achat, eh, achat, shtayim.
Smell the hooka
as a circle of guys
breathe it all in.
I walk up to a crowd
of pushers.
All wanting the priveledge
of praying at the graves
of those who came before us.
I pass through security.
They take my compact
telling me to come get it
when I leave.
I notice that the cabinet
they place it in
is full of knives.
Guess makeup can be dangerous.
(LOL)
I pray my heart out
in the sweltering heat.
I retrieve my goods
and descend the stairs
stopping midway
to take a seat.
to breathe in the sights.
And to cry for what I've missed.
For what I still miss.

Harachaman Hu Yakim Lanu Es Sukkas David Hanofales...

Cow Shopping

Off to the farm
To purchase a cow
To feed my Son.

Farmer,
Line up the cows
So that I may make my
Selection.

That one’s got
Way too many spots.

This one has
Much too much
Meat on it.
My son will get fat.

That other one
Moos too often.

This one over here
Looks like it’s been
Through a lot.

Farmer,
Are there no cows
Good enough
To feed my Son?

Bring the sheep!

No, that one’s
Too bushy.

And why is this one
So quiet?

That other one
Has curly hair.
Probably a bad temperament.

Farmer,
Are there no sheep
Good enough
To feed my Son?

Bring the goats!

Now, that’s better.

This one’s got
A nice long mane.
And nice and thin, as well.

But wait!
What are these patches
Missing from her coat?

Too thin, you say?
Can’t be.
One can never be
Too thin.

I’ll take this one.

What’s that,
My dear Son?
There’s nothing left too eat?
Son, you shall learn…

Mommy knows best.

I Thought...

I thought I heard your voice
Yesterday
But it was only the echo
of some long forgotten memory.

I thought I heard you sing
Yesterday
But it was only the music
of a passing car.

I thought I heard your steps
Yesterday
But it was only the woman
who comes to clean.

I thought I saw your face
Yeterday
But it was only a passing
reflection in the mirror.

I thought I felt your touch
Yesterday
But it was only the branch
of a tree in the wind.

I dreamed of you
Yesterday.
Of what you would be.
Of who you would be.
Of where you would be.

I'm still dreaming.
And tomorrow
is another day.

Yesterday

YESTERDAY

Yesterday
Is no more.
Can’t change the things I did.
Can’t take back my words.
No matter how many times
I try to erase
To rub out
My thoughts of
Yesterday
They are still there.
Laughing at me.
Tormenting me.
I try to stamp out
The echoes of
Yesterday
But the sounds
Only escalate
And bang on my eardrums.
I thought I changed.
I thought I was different
Than what I was
Yesterday
But it seems
I am wrong.
I still remember
Yesterday.

I Shall Not Sing

I sit here
at the waters of Babylon.
My back hunched.
My head between my knees.
The waters lap at my feet
beckoning me to join them.
To run away.
I try to cry
yet cannot.
The well of tears
behind my eyes
has dried out.
There are none left to shed.
My home
my beautiful, magnificent
home
is in shambles.
And I sit here.
Chained.
Bedraggled.
Without a voice.
From behind me
I hear footsteps.

We need some entertainment
to help us
forget
what is going on around us.
Sing for us!

Sing?
Sing what?

Sing what?
A song that you always sang.
One from your home.

But how can I sing
my song
in a strange land?

Sing, you insolent fool!
Sing!

But my voice is gone.
I don't even open
my lips
to even try to sing.
How can I sing
amongst desolation?
How can I sing my song,
our song,
for those who have taken
song away?

No, I shall not sing.



If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its strength.

A Brilliant Idea

You come to me.
Ask me for help
in cleaning up the mess
you've made.

You come to me
And wonder what
I can do
to change the situation.

You come to me
And marvel
at your brilliant idea.

Sure.

Befriend her.
Change her.
Fix her.
Let her see that what you're doing
is right.
Forget that what I did
is wrong.

It's not hypocritical.
It's life.
Live with it.

Sunburn

I feel like someone
boiled up a vat of
glue
and poured it
over my shoulders
and nose.
It's been a couple of days
and the tingling
is still there.
Itching.
Scratching.
Hot to the touch.
And now
the glue has begun to
peel.
Ouch.

Pain

The pain hit me first.
It felt like a massive bowling ball
Rolling.
Rolling.
Rolling.
Down a long
Long lane
Thrown with great force.
Such that I can’t describe.
I watched it journey down the lane
Knowing
That there was no escape.
The ball just kept rolling
Straight toward the pins
Trying to burst me.
To flatten me.
And I watched it
Rolling.
Rolling.
Rolling.
Just wondering how to escape.
And then,
It made contact.
That massive black sphere
Hurdled towards me
And hit me.
Head on.
And I?
I who thought I couldn’t escape?
I who thought it was all over?
I?
I caught the ball.

If anyone figures me out from this one, please let me know you did, and then keep quiet about it. Thanks!

Shame

I just got off the phone with a relative in Israel... These are my first thoughts of the situation now occuring...

I shame for you
My city
For a pride that's been misplaced

I shame for you
My love
For a name that's been disgraced

I shame for you
My city
For a people so confused

I shame for you
My love
For requests that were refused

I shame for you
My city
For a fight that can not end

I shame for you
My love
For the violence they send

I shame for you
My city
For the fires in the souls

I shame for you
My love
For misdirected goals

I shame for you
My city
For an act that's been misused

I shame for you
My love
For a love that's been abused

I Never Knew

I never knew
What I'd feel
Until I saw you.

I never knew
What I'd think
Until I spoke your name.

I never knew
What I'd say
Until I met you.

I never knew
What would be
Until you suddenly came.

I never knew
Where I'd go
Until you told me.

I never knew
To get up
Until you held my hand.

I never knew
What I'd do
Until you helped me

I never had
What I'd known
Until I knew you'd understand.

Future

I look at these young ninth graders.
So innocent.
So unknowing.
And I wonder about them
As they sit here
Scribbling the answers to their final.
I wonder about these young souls.
Who will pass,
And who will fail.
Who will make it,
And who will fall behind.
Who will lead,
And who will follow.
Who will collapse beneath the burdens of life,
And who will grow from them.
Who will marry,
And who will remain single,
And who will divorce,
And who will wait for children.
Who will become disillusioned with Judaism,
And who will marry a future Rosh Yeshiva.
I look at these ninth graders
And I wonder about their future.
So unknown.
So scary.
Yet so bright.

written while proctoring...

Did Ever...

Did ever a song
move you so
and make your eyes water?

Did ever a smile
touch your heart
and light a fire inside?

Did ever a hope
come to be
and make you stand taller?

Did ever a sight
set you free
and take you for a ride?

Did ever a soul
show belief
and make your self greater?

Did ever a friend
draw you close
and help you to get by?

Did ever a thought
come to mind
and couldn't wait for later?

Did ever a dream
live in you
and lift you up real high?

Sing.
Smile.
Hope.
See.
Believe.
Befriend.
Think.
Dream.
And fly.
Just fly.

Giving Up

Wrote this a couple of months ago, but something happened last night that made me really feel it, so I'm posting it now.


I'm giving up, G-d.
I've done all I could.
I've traveled the roads
Climbed all the mountains
Built bridges
Sailed seas
Yet it seems I've remained
Where I began.

I'm giving up, G-d.
I've tried really hard.
I've dug tunnels
Squirreled through them
And back again.
Ran races in endless circles.
Flown over each tree
And bush.
But I haven't seen progress.

I'm giving up, G-d.
I thought I could
Do it all
But I was mistaken.

I’m giving up, G-d
And leaving it all up
To You.

Thank you, G-d.

One Tear

All I was waiting for
was one tear.
One little tear.
I needed it.
Needed to cry.
To let it all out.
But it wouldn't come.
I worked my self up
into a frenzy.
Screwed up my face.
Rubbed my eyes.
Waited
and waited
for that tear
to come.
But it didn't.
I couldn't cry.
Why?

Hey Brother!

Hey, brother!
We haven't spoken for a while.
Well, maybe just a hello
Here and there,
But nothing like what we used to.

Remember Friday nights
When everyone else went to sleep
While we stayed up and chatted?
I miss those Friday nights.

Remember those school nights
When you'd be coming up from the basement
While I'd be coming down for a drink
And we'd sit at the kitchen table
And just talk about anything?
I miss those school nights.

Remember when you left for yeshiva
And though I couldn't see you much anymore
We'd still make the time for each other
Shmoozing on the phone
On each Friday morn
Wishing each other a wonderful Shabbos?
I miss those phone calls.

Lately, we just have not spoken.
You called me yesterday
And I put you on hold
And then you put me on hold
And then we were disconnected.
And I just couldn't get through again
To tell you just how much
I love you.

Getting to Know You...

I ring her bell.
Barely a second passes
before I'm buzzed in,
though in the past
it took a couple of minutes.
I walk into the apartment.
She's sitting there.
Waiting.
I say hello
giver her a kiss
and ask her how her day went.

And then we begin.

I take out the camcorder
and ask a couple of
questions.
And she talks.
Tells the story
of a time I can't even
Imagine.
Of a place harsher than my worst
nightmares.

Tells of a time she barely
remembers
yet one that she feels
more than yesterday.

With nary a tear,
she speaks of the atrocities.
Of the family that was
but is no more
except in her heart
and in her dreams.

I marvel at her strength.
This short,
petite
weak woman
has such fortitude.

The half hour's up.
I get up
kiss her goodbye
and tell her I'll be back
next week.

Bobby
It's difficult
getting to know you
But I'm ever so grateful...

The Artist's Paradox

The master
artist
stands there.
Paintbrush in hand.
Dabbing color.
Smoothing lines.
Bringing life to a
blank canvas.

Take a step back.
Look at our
artist.
Straggly hair
half hidden
by a tilted
beret.
Paint spattered
smock.
Standing in a
sparse room
with naught but a
wobbly table
a glass of water
a bar stool
a slice of bread
and his pallette
and easel.

The finished
masterpiece
now devoid of the
artist
hangs
gilt edged and framed
above the
mantelpiece.
Below,
a fire crackles.
soft, dim lights
ensconce the painting
casting shadows
revealing depth.
Smooth velvet drapings
and shiny polished marble
surround the
masterpiece
and elevate it
to glory.

The maker.
The presenter.
Two different
worlds.

One creates the
beauty.
The other
uses it.

The creator of
beauty
seems barren without
yet rich within.

And the receiver?
He's beautiful without,
yet inside...

What a paradox!

Looking Within

Within my mind
Where you can't see
There's something very close to me.

Within my heart
When you can't know
There's someplace that I always go.

Within my soul
What you don't hear
There's someone shrugging off all care.

Within my view
Though blocked by time
There's something scraping off the grime.

Within my thoughts
Strengthened with me
There's someplace where I'm always free.

Within my dreams
Adorned with hope
There's someone struggling to cope.

Real

People can be
So fickle at times.
Can't they understand the meaning
Behind a few, simple words
Contained in a poem?
They talk about life
As if it's a real thing.
And it is.
They just don't realize
How really real
It is.
They think
Life is to enjoy.
While I say
Life is to understand.
And to understand
Is to change.
And to change
Is to grow
And to really begin
To enjoy
Life.

Orchestra

Drumbeats on my mind.
Pulling the strings
Of my heart.
Blowing through the holes
Of my soul.
Strumming.
Drumming.
Playing the keys
Of my life.
Yet the notes seem
Discordant
If I haven't
Looked at the
Book.