Forgiveness

Butterflies in my hair,

butterflies in my head,

thoughts born to take flight.

In a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco,

I thought of you.

Tables in booths with curtains drawn,

in my mind like confessionals at church,

the soul waiting absolution.

The soul delights as it rises

through green fields of forgiveness. 

A small cubicle,

with an unspoken promise.

You spill your soul hoping for a new slate,

a new day.

All of us sinners,

with our poison of choice,

our path muddy,

on our journey.

Sins fester inside,

imprisoned in our being.

We bury them without allowing

them wings to fly,

as we watch our dreams die,

leaving them in a bottomless

ocean of pain.

Please join us here http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

Walk With Me

Walk with me

among my people,

lives lost,

innocence stolen,

futures robbed.

Walk with me

among these glass towers,

engraved with numbers.

These numbers were once people,

steam rising through metal grates,

my insides tuning inside out.

Tears falling for those slaughtered,

their voices silenced forever.

I feel one with them,

even if I walk along the

borders of religion and faith.

I feel one.

I read quotes inscribed of survivors 

left behind,

my heart saturated in pain.

Images seared in my mind

of people dying,

families vanished,

children that will never grow up.

My great grandparents,

their home burnt to the ground,

murdered in cold blood.

My heart heavy,

I want you to walk with me,

through the gates of hell,

where humanity lost it's mind,

where humanity lost itself.

Stand beside me,

hold my hand,

feel my beating heart,

screaming in rage.

My veins filled with legacy of

persecution,

honor,

and pain.

Walk with me as one,

feel my soul sigh in anguish.

Remember those silenced,

remember the past,

and let it never happen again. 

I was inspired to write this when I visited Boston this weekend. It was a short visit and I am grateful that I got to see it with Irina my son's girlfriend. If you wish to read more on it, here is a link, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_England_Holocaust_Memorial .

I felt moved in a way only this poem can explain. I am not a religious person but I've always felt spiritual. That always makes me feel guilty because of my legacy. I married a Christian and at the time it was hard for my parents and grandparents to accept because they were holocaust survivors.  Please meet us here,  http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

 

Goodbye

Soft currents,

rough waves,

sadness floats through aquamarine waters.

Not long ago

we dipped in the cold ocean,

collecting shells,

talking about life and death,

blond little boys you loved,

that captured your heart,

adventures we stumbled on,

books we read.

We left footprints on the sand

as we shared food and laughter,

tales of fish caught,

tears of loss.

We escaped the rainstorm that day,

not knowing that it will be the last time

we would share these waters.

Goodbye my friend,

sleep with the angels,

may your spirit soar,

may you find peace,

you will be missed.

This is dedicated to my friend Sieg. She was my father in law's companion for the past eleven years. We have shared many days fishing and talking and a connection that will always be in my heart. She passed away yesterday 9/10/12 unexpectedly . It was a shock and sadness fills our hearts. Please meet us here, http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

Jayden

Her hair golden,

bounces softly.

Her eyes fields of green.

She holds my hand,

she wants to show me

the night sky.

The dream catcher hanging on her window,

catches nightmares and carries them away

from this room filled with love.

This room filled with stars she sees

in her chandelier

and princess Barbie dolls

that comfort her and

whisper tales in her ear.

She plays with my hair

and I laugh 

because her small hands feel

like waves in the ocean

comforting and dreamy.

I laugh because her words are tender

and her heart is open.

Her eyes sparkle as she calls me

Aunt Sushi,

instead of Aunt Mushy

and we giggle.

Her laugh infectious,

the sound of sweetness.

We read a book about the Statue of Liberty,

it took 214 crates to bring her to America.
We read a book about Abe Lincoln
and how he stuffed notes in his hat.

We pretend to be mermaids in the ocean,

while she tells me she loves purple and red.

She rests her head on my shoulder.

She holds me for a moment,

and captures my heart.

Jayden,

her eyes full of dreams,

her mind filled with imagination,

her heart full of love.

This is dedicated to sweet Jayden. The daughter of our dear friend that we visited in New-York

a couple of weeks ago . She is four and a half years old. We have not seen her since she was an infant.

She charmed us and inspired this poem. Mushy is my nickname so it was funny when she called me aunt sushi which I just loved. Please Join us here http://dversepoets.com Where we

share our thoughts and our hearts.

Invisbile Heroes

Heat rises from the streets,
sounds heard ,
a cell phone in a distance,
an ambulance siren,
all in the shadows of the white,
pristine stadium along Biscayne Bay.
Million dollar condos,
larger than life portraits,
of the basketball home team,
home town heroes.
The avenue glowing like
a pregnant woman in
her glory.
A walk away ,
the other avenue dying a slow death.
Smell of urine and semen rising
from the street.
Unattractive reality of brothers
living on cardboard boxes
in the street.
Those that drive by afraid to
look into their eyes.
Brothers that once bled
red, white, and blue
in unforgiving foreign green fields.
Long before America
led parades for heroes.
Long before small children
waved their flags in welcome.
In those days,
they were neglected,
set aside,
disposed of.
Their parades canceled and revoked.
Real heroes with no larger than life portraits.

I wrote this for the Anniversary Poetry Contest that was submitted to Nain Rougue. Please meet us here http://dversepoets.com where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

An Empty Chair

There's an empty chair

beside me.

There's an empty place that only

you can fill.

Yesterday's memories live

in the attic of my heart.

In a place that only you can reach

and comfort.

I remain with

words you left behind,

love you gently carried,

postcards of places we've been to,

photographs of moments

of a life well lived.

I have drowned in sorrow,

I have lost my way.

I have carried a scar with your name.

Today

I want to dance in the rain,

and celebrate you.

I want to voice my gratitude to the world.

I want to bottle my tears 

and save them for another day.

I want the wind to whisper secrets

in my ear.

Today I will soar and fly,

today I will live,

today I will celebrate you.

This is dedicated to my mom. Last week I wrote a poem for her as well. This week is three years

since she passed away. I think of her every day but more so when her birthday or

anniversary of her passing is here. I miss her and I remember all our special moments. 

Please meet us here, http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

The Magic That Was You

I inhale the peaches,

red and orange color.

Peaches so perfect,

as if they escaped a Renoir painting.

I seek a bruised one

and I delight that it's flawed.

I wait with anticpation

to slice into it.

I remember you,

gently holding a knife

and cutting into it.

A smile would appear

in the corners of your mouth,

when you tasted the sweetness.

I take a peach to my lips,

the taste almost intoxicating.

I wish I could share it with you mom,

the way we shared so much.

I carried slices of pain,

between mother and daughter.

I held bitterness to unkind words,

unimportant and trivial,

now that you're gone.

I have not forgotten,

the magic that you carried.

Love you scattered.

Your arms that like a blanket,

covered us and kept us warm.

The love that made walls into

a home.

I wish you knew

that I miss you everyday

since you left.

When you visit me in my dreams,

I attempt to remember

fragments of you.

I remain longing for you,

for words I did not say,

those last few days.

You tried to speak

but I could not understand,

your tongue swollen,

your eyes desperate to reach me.

I hid the tears but

you saw the pain in my eyes.

Mom, as I inhale this peach,

as I soak into this life,

I remember.

The longing lingers,

the pain remains

and I wish you were here.



August 26th is three years since my mom passed away. I miss her every day.
Please meet us here http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.