Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Mid Life Island


My vessel empty,
dark,
tangled up in blue.
My interior landscape,
desolate,
the sound of the wind echoes
through.
Days when I am the wreckage,
days when I am the storm.
Standing in mid-life,
the memory of the chaotic past
floats in and out of my thoughts,
like a colorful buoy
faded by the sun;
the color drained as
the elements seized
without mercy.
The scars have faded
but resurface
like a letter for additional postage.
Truth gnaws like a dog on a bone,
I choose to swim against the tides.
The erosion on my shore
only felt by me.
The mind battles the clutter,
while the illusions are mourned.
Tangled up in blue,
a light in the distance,
is the beacon,
to the answers,
to the possibility
of tomorrow.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Tiny hands awaiting greatness




Grasping,
reaching,
touching.
Hands,
you discovered your hands.
You joined them in a dance,
then let them fall to your sides
like leaves in a free fall.
You tug with eagerness
at your colorful toy.
You coo to it and to me.
Red, orange, green, polka dots, and stripes,
make your eyes light up.
Your lips purse together,
bubbles escape them.
I watch with delight,
as if for the first time
watching a miracle.
You choreograph with your fingers
a dance of discovery and beauty.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

What if I forget?



The city I was born in,
my mother's maiden name,
the street I lived on.
Questions,
answers that do not warrant
hesitation,
contemplation,
black and white,
nice and easy.
But what if I forget
one day,
my first pet's name,
my high school boyfriend,
finding the love of my life.
What if it slips away,
like an oar in the river,
like water through my fingers,
like all the yesterdays
built by moments of you and I.
Holding hands,
speaking with our loud voices
at the spark of anger,
dancing in the kitchen,
our laughter echoes in our home.
Silent,
side by side at dawn,
our feet tangled 
in a mess of love,
what if I forget?

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Solitude



My heart trembles,
my heart floods
underneath the malnourished past.
Memory breathes life
into the body,
memory shakes it from its sleep.
Awakened to touch 
ever so soft,
like a whisper on the skin,
like feathers in the wind.
Love seared into the being,
buried in a cave of yesterday
where fragile and tenderness
once lived.
Famine and
solitude
were a choice in
a narrative of a crumbling world.
Denial and deprivation were a choice.
Love breathing life back into me,
setting me free. 

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Legacy


Tomorrow April 24, 2017 is Holocaust Remembrance Day as well as Armenian Genocide Day. I would like to share here poems that I had written for both. I am a child of a holocaust survivor and my husband is a grandchild of an Armenian genocide survivor. Our tapestry is woven by those that displayed a remarkable courageous spirit.



Numbers


Numbers tattooed
on my soul.
Lives snuffed out,
erased,
roots of humanity pulled out
like weeds,
so they would not grow,
or flourish,
so they would not survive.
Numbers tattooed,
like branded animals,
identities robbed,
discarded,
destroyed.
Voices silenced,
voices of philosophers,  
poets,
bakers,
doctors,
mothers,
fathers,
children.
The old woman sits with me,
she remembers and weeps.
she remembers walking into
an empty house for refuge,
  a photograph 
of a rabbi on the wall,
his blue eyes haunt her in her dreams. 
She remembers hunger,
cold,
despair.
Her grandparents murdered,
her uncle vanished,
her aunt dismembered.
She is a part of me,
a piece of my legacy.
Her eyes the same color as my 
beloved father's eyes.
 They held hands at the gates of hell
and survived.
I write down the stories
seared with pain
 of portraits of life
ripped apart,
families lost,
unspeakable horrors.
I write stories,
I witness,
as tears fall down,
we remember. 


This next poem I wrote to commemorate 100 years from the genocide. It is dedicated to my husband and his beloved grandfather.


Armenian Genocide -100 Years


Coal black sky,
awakens repressed memories.
Whispers of angels silenced.
You are not forgotten,
the moon watched 
while humanity looked away,
one hundred years of denial.
Grandpa,
I stood beside you as a boy,
and as a man I carry you in my heart.
Your kind but dark eyes,
pieced my consciousness with
stories of your plight,
living in a cave,
marching in the desert,
eating weeds and plants.
You were a baby boy orphaned,
grief held your hand.
You were too young to remember
your mother's love
your mother's embrace.
The emptiness,
and the sadness lingered.
The oppressors sought to destroy,
they sought deportation,
humiliation,
death.
The oppressors wished
to erase you
and our bloodline.
One hundred years of denial,
echo like whispers,
reverberate from the earth
of those that perished.
You survived
to flourish
you survived 
to tell your story
the darkness always in the shadows
 of each day.
Grandpa,
I remember.
Grandpa,
your words are not forgotten,
I retell my children of those dark days,
of their legacy,
of survival rich with
honor of your life.
Grandpa,
I stood beside you as a child,
as a man I carry you in my heart.
 
 

Remember And Change


Dad,
I don't want to write about spring,
flowers blooming,
touching my skin,
making my spirits rejoice.
Dad,
I don't wish to write about egrets 
flying into my yard,
celebrating glorious blue skies.
Dad,
I want to write about hunger and pain,
about a dark time,
when the sun did not shine for you 
and for others.
A time when your belly was empty
and your eyes witnessed 
horrors that remained with you
till the day you died.
I don't want to be gentle or soft,
I want to awaken souls.
I want the world to remember,
humanity at it's worst.
I want them to know
 that you did not
let it define you.
You were a survivor,
a champion,
that fought for other people's rights .
Your heart open and your mind
filled with dreams.
You wrote beautiful words,
soaring above the pain and horror.
Dad,
I want them to remember ,
the people that perished,
the people that did not
get to go home and build
a new life,
in a new land
I want the world to remember.
 



Sunday, April 9, 2017

Silent


Hesitations,
confrontations,
conversations.
Crumbs leftover from yesterday
fear induced.
I am sliced paper thin
by questions and self doubt.
Hesitations,
conversations,
truth,
words dancing on the page.
Complications,
hesitations,
thoughts percolating,
truth illuminating the way.
Silent,
suffocating,
drowning,
casting shadows and
darkness.
If I recall our story
with truth and beauty,
unveil it with clarity and charity
will you let me
raise my chest into the air
let the steam and fire rise,
and let me spin my words
saturate life
breathe secrets into the universe
or will you silence me?

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Enchantment


Your sweetness 
awakens peace within me,
an immense joy
that roars like incoming
waves breaking on the shore.
The tides rise and fall
with time,
as I look into your eyes 
and our souls meet again.
My words palpable
pour on to the page
unassuming
brimming with enchantment 
and truth.
You nestled in my heart,
my love,
pure,
immeasurable.
I wait for the universe to lift you,
embrace you 
and write the chapters of your life
with peace,
felicity, 
and enlightenment.