Category: Poetry

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.

poem: Seeking Solace

“As we step forward, they attempt to surround us; they intend to spread out across the country.” – Psalms 17:11, embellished

May the right arm of Your majesty, in all its effectiveness, assure victory for us over the challenges that we face each and every day of our lives. During this time of peril, whether starting our lives over elsewhere, or trying to remain hopeful in the midst of uncertainty, as we hunker down below the city streets, let us see the light of dawn breaking through our sorrows.

The prayers of the faithful will be sent to shomayim upon the wings of angels. We send even our most seemingly trivial concerns to Heaven; for, it is the small details of our lives, and the relatively inconsequential choices of our lives that appear to matter most at times. Once the important decisions have been made, the smaller ones appear in clear relief.

Like a picture-perfect day, not a cloud in the sky, may the realization of our dreams exceed our expectations. May our cities be rebuilt, and our lives resume, only stronger for having been through these traumatic experiences, and the overall devastation that has pummeled our cities. May we live to see the day when the seeds planted across the nation will bloom into tall sunflowers, always facing the light.

Note (FYI and Disclaimer): This a dramatic monologue. A dramatic monologue gives voice to those whom the poet chooses to give expression through the poem. Although I am a poet, and not a Ukrainian, I feel an affinity with the Ukrainian people, especially my Jewish brethren (i.e., brothers and sisters). Additionally, this is also a prose poem, and not a typical poem that has verses, stanzas or rhymes.

Help from Above

To Him that led His people through the wilderness, we pray:

L-RD, protect us under the shadow of your wings,

And defend us in the face of adversity.

Guide our ways through the wilderness of our lives,

Make clear our paths, within the domain of the enemy,

For as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

We yearn to reach the other side of the border,

Where we can find safety, comfort, and renewal.

Eventually, all of us will be poised to begin anew,

As G-d continues to give us the opportunity to say,

In all honesty, that we are grateful for living another day.

Do not let our fears hold sway over our minds;

Permit our conscience to steer us in the right direction.

We look forward to the day when the Redemption will be at hand,

As Your help will arrive early in the morning before dawn.

In that day, the L-RD will be one, and his name one. Amein.

poem: Hidden Remnant

The time draws near,

as opportunity knocks,

only until the door closes with a tear

for every soulful look.

Those who remain

in the basement of this shul,

will wait out the battle, constrained,

as the siege in the city fails to improve.

This congregation, now divided,

between Kharkov and Dnipro,

where several dozen from the kehillah have fled,

will survive with G-d’s berachah.

Blessings, descending from heaven,

more potent than bombs and missiles,

will sustain them until they can ascend

and mend the fissures in their lives.

Those who have already taken flight,

and reached the border’s protection,

hope to see their final destination in sight –

a foreshadowing of the final redemption.

poem: Plight

There is no time to dawdle,

as the wind picks up speed.

Securing a place in line for ourselves,

once we get to the border is tantamount

to reserving a place for ourselves

in the ledgers of the Book of Life.

Little one, when you place

one foot in front of the other,

know, that each step along the way

will bring you closer to safety.

For, the past will not follow you

through the checkpoint into your future.

Your brothers and sisters,

aunts and uncles, all of your cousins,

and friends are also on this journey,

upon the long and winding road

to freedom from fear, harm, and hunger.

All that is required of you,

amidst the explosions and turmoil,

the deafening sounds inside of the cities,

and the rising tides of world war

is a steadfast faith in your plight,

knowing that G-d is watching

over you, until the end.

poem: Seeking Refuge

Despite the explosions nearby,

they daven as usual at shul;

a staunch commitment to the Almighty,

in the face of adversity and ruin.

And, the presence of the Shechinah,

who shelters all who seek refuge under her wings;

will guarantee protection to those on the bimah,

and amongst the congregation otherwise serene.

For, neither war, nor the chaos that might ensue,

will damage the spirit of the truly pious;

sending our hopes Above, into the azure blue,

our heartfelt prayers to Whom we trust.

Nothing will shake the faith of the soul,

who aspires to dream beyond what appears bleak;

everything is possible, as silence reveals the toll,

of redemption, soon at hand for the meek.

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