Friday, January 24, 2014

After the War

After the War,
My grandfather had to decide:  United States of
America, or Israel.
(Or so the story goes.)
And he chose,
And his choice became mine
By default.

He had great dreams,
They all had great dreams:

Shedding the old to embrace
The new,
To start anew                       
In the Newland.
(Only the new soon resembled the old, but that’s another story.)

It took me twenty-six years
To overturn my grandfather’s decision.
(I recently read that America is the real home of the Jews.  Not
Sure about that, but the living here, summertime and all, is easy.)

The darn thing is this: I drown in my desire to return to Europe.
War and all.

Friday, January 3, 2014


Minutes streaming down the hourglass,
Dribble into
And every day
I cross paths with strangers enveloped
In heavy coats; chins tucked, shoulders stooped.

I want the sun to rise; I want to laugh out loud.
I cannot hear what you are saying now,
I cannot smell the roses in the summer garden
At the back of the house
Where she sits alone, thinking of her husband who had left her
And all the mistakes she had made;
How could she unravel it all, it is clearly too late.

And I run down the street away from her pain,
I want to see the sun again,
Hear the birds chirp, diminish all that pain; to relieve it all,
Let it leave it

I cannot stop now; I’m already on my way, I cannot leave now,
I am waiting for the pain to dissipate,
I want the coats to be unshelled, the
Sun to burst in dance.