Grandson

Grandson,

I dream of holding your 

sweet slumber in my arms.

Your hair wild,

your eyes luminous.

My finger laced

in yours.

My thoughts

 swept away,

unravel with hope and wonder.

You are a mystery,

I have yet to discover.

My heart beats

with anticipation.

Grandson,

I await

to greet you,

to look into your angelic eyes,

to touch your tender skin.

We have not met

but I love you

your footprints are

engraved on my heart.

Your breath,

your life,

a celebration

of adoration.

We have not met

but I love you.

Going Home

Her rivers pulsate in the veins of my mind,

her desert's wilderness on my skin.

Her land a piece of my narrative,

she thunders in the echoes of my thoughts,

in the geography of my being.

The soundtrack of childhood,

hopscotched into the present.

My roots tangled

with blurred lines

of self,

of quest,

of devotion.

Recently I went back to my birthplace of Israel. I was delighted and whole to be there,

to bathe in her beauty and to be with family that I love.