Erase Me Not

Erase a memory.
Erase a generation.
Erase life.
Bury the memory,
bury lives.
Blood on your hands.
Stains on your soul.
The moon and stars weep
the moon and stars witnessed the massacre.
The moon and stars witnessed sorrow rise into survival,
despair into hope,
darkness into light.
Erase a memory.
Erase the past.
Erase me not.
The legacy in my veins,
my voice carried by the wind.
My seeds scattered over distant lands,
stories unfold,
stories retold,
stories never forgotten.


This is dedicated to my husband, his family and the Armenian people. Today is the remembrance day of the Armenian genocide. Recently I wrote a poem about my husband's grandfather and how he saved a train full of children during that time. He was a brave young boy that grew up and shared his stories with my husband. We retell from one generation to another, the sorrow and triumph.  1.5 million Armenians were murdered and the Ottoman Empire- Turkey today will not acknowledge  the murders of the Armenians. I am adding the link to the poem that I wrote about my husband's grandfather here, http://asunkissedlife-ayala.blogspot.com/2011/12/potato-in-his-pocket.html . Please meet us here, http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

I Will Always Remember You

After he watched his rabbi hanging,
his tongue severed .
After he watched a mass graveyard of bodies,
the stench filled the air,
the stench filled his senses.
How did he survive?
This black and white world,
where death came uninvited.
Sorrow the background of his childhood,
dreadful clouds over the ghetto.
He was only a child,
I wonder how he survived.
I wonder how he didn't lose his mind,
this pain throbbing in his heart.
When I think of him,
and hold him in my dreams,
I wonder of these many things.
His road filled with pain,
became a road of endurance,

a road of triumph.



I wrote this poem on April 5th 2011. I wrote it in dedication for my dad a survivor of the holocaust. Today is  Yom Hashoah which is the Holocaust Remembrance Day. I will always remember those who perished and those that survived. They will always be in my heart.

My Faith

His margins are clear,
while mine complicated.
I carry faith in the pocket of my heart,
somewhere between the chambers of my heart.
He's black and white,
while I am pink and grey.
My margins may be complicated
but I live my truth,
clear,
organic,
loud.



Meet us here http://dversepoets.com/ Where we share our thoughts and hearts.

Goodbye Spanish Fly

The ocean waters weep
with longing.
The wind whispers his name,
" goodbye Spanish Fly."
We read news reports in disbelief,
sadness fills us.
His plane caught in the crosswind,
his plane fell down from the sky,
and his spirit rose to heaven.
His humble beginnings,
as a Florida Keys fishing guide,
charming with infectious joy,
made the world fall in love with him.
He built memories and dreams,
living to the fullest,
from fun in the Bayou
to Sailfish fishing in Mexico.
Adventures to love,
adventure to treasure.
Goodbye Spanish Fly,
we will remember the stars in your eyes,
and the love in your heart.
Goodbye Spanish Fly,
you will be missed,
you will be forever loved.



Jose Wejebe was an angler that hosted, " Spanish Fly " a saltwater fishing show. My husband and I have been watching him since he started his career. My husband felt a kinship with him because he was true with his love of fishing. We were shocked and saddened to hear his plane crashed on Friday. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family and to all the people that loved him. He was one of a kind and we will always remember him. Come and meet us at http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

Jerusalem

http://dversepoets.com/

The ancient city knows my name.
Once this land was home.
I laid at her feet,
touched her,
listened to her heartbeat from the ground.
When I was small I hopscotched under her glorious beauty
while she winked at me.
That was long ago,
I return to heartbreak.
I skip through Jerusalem ,
her eyes dark and tender as they follow me.
I search through  her curves
to find his church,
nestled away, standing humble.
I enter the gates,
embraced by the sound of chanting,
rising through locked doors.
The doors open and I walk in
slowly feeling the spirit as the sunlight
enters through the vaulted dome.
My hearts skips a beat,
wishing my love was here,
to taste this moment.
The smell of incense
floating in the air,
awakens my senses,
as I sit in silence,
breathing it in for him,
breathing it in for me.



This is a reflection of my trip to Jerusalem. I went to Israel to bury my mom in 2009 and I took a day trip to Jerusalem and searched for the Armenian church which is in the old city and dates back to AD 420. My husband was a choir boy and he knows the present Patriarch, Archbishop Torkom Manoogian.  I felt a sense of wonder sitting there taking it all in. This is about love, the kind of love that crosses lines and faiths. I was born in Israel and raised Jewish and I married an Armenian which is orthodox Christian. So love conquers all in my faith. Meet us here,  http://dversepoets.com/  where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

The One For Me

You live,
you love,
with passion in your veins.
A man with a boy's heart,
you delight in hermit crabs,
finding a school of bait.
You cast a net like a matador,
in a bullfight.
Your arms strong,
your lines flowing.
I love the fire in your eyes,
those eyes know me,
the way they know the tides.
Your hands know me,
the way they know a tug of a Marlin or a shark.
When the Marlin dances,
there is wonder in your eyes.
The way your eyes shine
when I wrap myself around you
and melt into you.
You live,
you love,
you create art and beauty
from the moments of our life.



Join us at http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

Rachel's Story

The snow never melted that winter,
it didn't fall like powder.
It was harsh and unforgiving,
the way the days were.
Death was a companion,
stench was in the air.
The enemy left them to
freeze and die.
Five year old Rachel,
sat by the window.
The train brought them here,
like cattle.
The train brought them here to die.
Their lives left behind,
home a faint warm memory.
Rachel sat by the window,
she wondered if God had abandoned them.
She listened to news of others
freezing to death.
Their clothes traded for a bowl of food,
to survive another day,
to watch another sunrise.
The days bleak,
endless,
bitter cold.
Rachel watched every day a carriage
of dead bodies pass her by.
She didn't cry,
her heart pounding,
her mind racing.
Memories that she would carry
all her life.



I spent today with my aunt, she wanted to share some memories of the holocaust so I can write her story someday. My head and heart ache when I think of some of the things that my dad and her went through as children. This is for my aunt and for all the children of the holocaust. Please meet us here,
http://dversepoets.com/  where we share our thoughts and our hearts.