Category: Poetry

Ukrainian Blues

The surrounding countryside of Kiev, and other cities, such as Lviv, and even my own ancestral hometown, Bolekhiv, are quiet in the night, while the Russians prepare their next attempts to maneuver their positions, to be in alignment with their next forward march into the fray. By now, they know that they will continue to meet with resistance from the Ukrainian defenders. These are not nationalists, like the propaganda espoused by the Putin regime would have it known; rather, these are loyal citizens of a country that has been trying to gain its complete freedom for decades. True, it was Ukrainian nationalists in the midst of WW2, who were no friends of the Jewish population in Bolechov, Poland in 1939, when the Soviets retreated. However, the current generation of Ukrainians are not responsible for the sins of their ancestors.

After WW2, my ancestral hometown fell in under the new lines of demarcation, designating the city as Bolekhiv in the newly established boundaries of Soviet Ukraine. And, now, 58 years later, and, incidentally, fifty-eight miles south of Lviv, I wonder how far the smoldering torches of war have receded, or perhaps impeded upon the place where the graves of my ancestors rest. Of course, most of them, were actually buried in either one of two mass graves. The first, 7 km outside of Bolechov (now, Bolekhiv) in Tarnipol. The other, hastily made grave in the actual cemetery. This cemetery is the best preserved Jewish cemetery in Europe. I have always wanted to visit, since I “found” my ancestors through genealogical research. And, now, How am I to do so? Ultimately, if am able to do so in the future, will I be entering Ukraine, or Soviet-controlled Ukraine?

My ancestors souls,

transcend earthly boundaries,

knowing only peace.

Let Faith Reign

And there’s a slow, slow train comin’ up around the bend.

Slow Train, by Bob Dylan

When society is upended,

and people are tormented,

take heart in your faith,

don’t let your soul go to waste;

there will be a slow train

coming around the bend.

Let faith reign in your heart,

don’t pretend to play the part,

when the mind is sincere,

and the pathway is clear,

there will be a slow train

on the tracks ready to start.

Let’s dare not be hesitant,

when opportunity prevails, take that first step,

look, the passenger door is open,

these tired souls that appear to be broken,

will be renewed on the slow train,

moving along the tracks.

Hidden Lives

From deep within a heart of stone,

lies the essence of a kernel, soon to bloom.

Behind these stony faces, tears run dry,

emotions hidden inside the outer shell,

where hope mixes with fear, and a suppressed cry.

The seedling will soon sprout,

when watered by tears of joy;

then, this plant will blossom in the sunshine,

of a new day, when faith reigns,

in the hearts of once lifeless ruins.

The stones from where the seedlings thrived,

will break away to reveal what was hidden inside –

people stepping out from beneath the earth,

to greet the sunrise with all that they are worth.

No more concealed in the basements below;

now, blessed to watch the sun’s glow.

Heaven Is Still Waiting

Living in the belly of the beast,

rising up from the vacant grave,

reaching towards the light from the East,

an angel from Heaven appears,

with a mission to save.

Crying out from a land of tears,

dying to ourselves every day,

casting away all of our fears,

gaining ground over the years,

as the enemy retreats the other way.

Opening up to the possibility,

of hope becoming permanently ingrained,

indelible as ink, on a deed of civility,

or the silver lining of a cloud,

that is translucent with sunbeams.

The sunflowers in the land of the living,

sway in tune with a heavenly chorus of angels,

and a myriad of people singing

the refrain of the song of Moses,

shining like golden bells.

Truth Conquers All

1.

All of the firebrands that you have thrown at me,

have been deflected, landed in fertile soil, and,

transformed into pillars of truth to guide my life.

The blazing torches of lies, brandished in my face,

have been quenched by the streams of sanctity,

and extinguished by waters from the well of salvation.

I have been inoculated against future deception,

and strengthened against the cunning of the Great Deceiver.

I have regained my sanity in a world of chaos.

2.

I put one foot forward each and every day of my life,

on the road towards freedom from my past bondage,

held as a mental hostage, in the lairs of my nemesis.

Yet, when you appeared, my bonds were loosened,

my nightmare ended, and new horizons emerged.

Now, carried away by the Spirit, to new vistas,

I have tread upon the tail of the serpent,

and danced amongst my people reborn.

Butterflies

Amongst the fields of sunflowers,

dreaming in the winds of change,

butterflies roam, partaking of the nectar.

Sweet dreams interrupted by a shift

in the pleasant breezes,

accompanied by dark clouds.

Nectar runs dry, and petals wilt,

as the resting places

of the fragile two-winged creatures,

disappear from the fields.

How many Ukrainian refugees,

who have taken flight,

from the devastation,

will be blessed with a new beginning,

in faraway places, where safety resides,

miles away from their homes?

My ancestors, with prescient insight,

migrated across the Atlantic Ocean,

before the flames of the Shoah

engulfed Bolechov, and took the lives

of those who remained in the shtetl.

Ghosts of the past cry out,

Release me, into the wind,

so that our memories

will not be forgotten.

Memories and Current Events

My recent poems have been written,

primarily in response to the Ukraine war.

Feeling, recently, that the tides of change

cannot be explained any further,

nor rearranged into coherent descriptions,

I sought to refrain from this endeavor.

Yet, my heart is overflowing,

teeming with complex emotions,

and my pen, figuratively speaking,

is writing (typing out) words again,

in response to the internal reservoir,

of all that remains to be said.

My muse? Ineffable, for He Knows all,

and is above and beyond all muses.

So, redeemed, is each word that I reckon,

as not my own, rather, from deep within,

a pool of reflection, tinged with a conscience,

and a consciousness, stemming

from the part of mankind’s soul,

that is connected to the Divine.

In addition to all this, I do not know

how I can even factor into the equation,

that Bolekhiv, my ancestral hometown,

is fifty-eight miles south of Lviv,

where several dozen of my relatives

were buried in mass graves,

during the Shoah.

The Light of Truth

When light is diminished in this world,

we seek the scroll of Esther unfurled,

to bring to light what remains hidden,

drawing close to G-d, even when not bidden.

When darkness seems to prevail,

we find hope in Mordechai’s tale,

of triumph, in the battle of us and them,

the tides were turned in our favor by H’Shem.

The light of truth shone bright,

when Haman’s plan was revealed in full site,

to King Ahasuerus at Esther’s feast,

when all the coincidences came into place.

Today, we celebrate yesterday’s victory,

steadfast in prayer in the morning early,

awaiting the light that appears at dawn,

when the L-RD will right all that is wrong.

Like colors in a mystical kaleidoscope,

blue and yellow blend with hope,

when all of the colors melt into one,

in expectation of the rising sun.

The Call of Silence

As the tanks roll into the cities,

blue and yellow flags are waved high,

in defiance of the occupier’s atrocities,

while many finally flee with a sigh.

As the drama continues to unfold,

within the layers of recent history,

the territorial defenses stand bold

in the face of the assault and misery.

Echoes of past flights from death,

and narrow evasions of an untimely fate,

are interwoven with our every breath,

and surface in our own memories of late.

Our brothers and sisters who have fled

to the checkpoints, are now able to impart

a message of hope, despite all who have bled

silent tears within the confines of their heart.

Having travelled through many regions,

lives are reshaped, homes found for new arrivals,

across the boundaries of neighboring nations,

that were in flux, during past upheavals.