Heavenly Messenger

Prayers are only answered from a distance;

there is a great expanse that separates

between the supernal heights of Shomayim,

and the lowliness of our earthbound plight.

By the time the angelic messenger

passes through the strata of rakia,

the communication has become veiled,

in language that is beyond our understanding.

The malach who was dispatched from Above,

ascends again with empty hands and a heavy heart;

his only contentment is found in the accomplishment

of the task entrusted to him alone to enact.

Regardless of the recipient’s lack of awareness,

G-d’s word will not have been sent in vain;

rather, its purpose will have been accomplished,

without the cognizance of the beneficiary.

Being Human

Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

This being human is

more of a responsibility than a freedom,

in need of a guidebook, not carte blanche;

we are not left alone in the playground of the world,

our Father in Heaven watches over us from Above.

Sometimes, forgetfulness seeps into my mind,

even while I try my best to follow the rules;

brings me back to basics, every now and then,

hopeful to find inspiration in the written word.

Ignorance of the divine blueprint of life,

brought me into conflict with my soul;

yet, I learned after enduring much strife,

that following G-d’s will is the key to the whole.

A life in pursuit of worldly bliss,

is best challenged by a desire to seek;

the path for a purpose in life will eclipse

the tendency towards natural instinct.

Lives in Limbo

“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.” – Wislawa Szymborska

The darkened hearts of some of our neighbors, who have renounced their humanity will be judged by the Almighty, while I and my brother, hiding in between these walls, will continue to cling to the Ribono Shel Olam, Who has provided this place of refuge for us. We are fortunate enough to be blessed with kind Christian neighbors, who will not permit the darkness to cloud their own sense of judgment, morality and faith. Although this bleak reality (only an appearance of a life in limbo) may cast an occasional shadow of doubt upon our own faith, I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being. And, who knows whether these very walls may have been built for this purpose, to shelter us from the tyranny of the soul that seems to have pervaded the world’s conscience.


1 Nissan 5781

Running, the tempest behind me,

still present in my thoughts and dreams;

yet, somewhere on the horizon, I can see

in the distance, there is a place serene.

Joyous within myself, outwardly smiling,

my emotions never surface enough to be visible;

perhaps, a trait from my ancestors upbringing,

learned men of books, studying in the shtetl.

My father comprehends the silence,

that his view from heaven always reveals;

although, amidst my own earthly burdens,

much for me still remains concealed.

Yehi ratzon, I will be consoled at last

by the promise of the Final Redemption;

each year that closes the gaps of the past,

brings us closer to our future reunion.

Linear time and eternity merge,

as hours pass into days and years;

in a single glimpse, moments converge,

carrying the weight of golden tears.

The Beis HaMikdash looms visible,

in the inner sanctum of the soul;

a place of solace, clearly recognizable

by the light of the Shepherd’s fold.

In Heaven’s Time

A tearful reunion, when my memories drift,

bittersweet moments, resurrected by the sound

of melancholy chords that compel me to reminisce.

A “whisper” from Above, when I viewed the painting,

encapsulated by a sense of silence that surrounds

Yoseph’s deathbed – Yeshua and Miriam at his side.

The night before you passed, a sense of urgency

brought me to my knees, for half an hour in prayer;

(past efforts only ever amounted to a few minutes).

My only explanation, I was sustained by the Ruach,

to endure for the sake of a parting gift to your soul,

that you would be gently lifted up to Shomayim.

Message in a Nutshell

I am separated for the benefit of my soul, and yours;

introvert, sheltering in place, for indeterminable hours,

by way of self-imposition, yet, reaching towards Heaven,

even beyond these confines, towards family and friends.

A complete year has passed, full circle since the proliferation

of coronavirus reached the shores of this once proud nation;

some brought to their knees in prayer, others stand in rebellion –

to all who will listen and receive carefully chosen words.

Awake from your slumber, for the time draws near,

later than we may have thought, the burden we must bear;

for the roots of modern day Babylon are being wrought,

as a new foundation is laid in place by the technocrats.

Acceptance of the new normal, will render us complacent,

while a promise of utopia is marketed by manufactured consent;

upon the ashes of society, the “building back better” trope

will usher in a brave new world, devoid of a soul.

The media purveys the call of the organizers of the lands,

who hold all of the cards in their multinational hands;

yet, mankind cannot transcend the problems of this world

without the divine guidance of the Ribono Shel Olam.

Gabriola Island

Cold awakening,

each morning at 4 a.m. –

kindle the fire.

The telephone is my only connection to the outside world, that is to anyone not living on Gabriola Island. Otherwise, my friends, family, and associates are three thousand miles away; mostly none of them no where I am, for I have wandered far north to Canada. I only recall one phone call, wherein I was compelled to liquidate an investment that was originally made upon recommendation of a friend. Honestly, I think that the small group of investors no longer wanted to be in partnership with me, after I had abruptly left Philadelphia. I kindly accepted the offer to receive back the exact amount that I had invested.

Every morning, I wake up around 4:00 a.m., when I begin to feel the cold of the room. This is my reminder to put more wood on the fire. My day begins with facing the challenges of a Canadian winter; yet, I am mostly snug in my modest place of residence. The restroom is always cold; so, I usually splash a little bit of water on my face, without immediately taking a shower. Later, I get a ride to Haven from L., who works there in the kitchen; she and her husband are renting this place to me.

Because I am taking workshops at Haven, this is an ideal situation for now; in retrospect, I should have felt blessed by these accommodations; however, I did not actually realize, nor fully appreciating the conveniences. Surely, I lacked gratitude at the time to both my landlords, as well as G-d, who arranges everything from His lofty place in Seventh Heaven. Yet, my New Age worldview at the time, seemed to offer, by way of osmosis from various teachings, a sort of go with the flow of the Universe attitude; yet, without proper respect towards the Creator of the Universe.

soul journey

Photo by Enric Cruz López from Pexels

The water recedes,

from the stone and pebble beach,

back into the strait.

On Gabriola Island, I lived for several months, in a few locations, the most charming, sheltered in a small structure, with a bunk bed, and wood stove, three thousand miles away from Philadelphia. I felt secure, and as isolated as Thoreau at Walden, so far from everything that I had known in my life. A new chapter began on that island, as my life unfolded in an unexpected way.

The wings of the Shechinah, next took me to find shelter in Sedona, Arizona, where I lay my head down on the red rocks of the desert. Initially sleeping at first in the early days, in my car in Oak Creek Canyon, a tent on Schnebly Hill, and only my street clothes and a leather jacket, with my back up against a brick wall, while my knees were pulled up towards my chest all night for two weeks, as the cool November moon cast its glow upon my place of refuge, hidden amongst the shadows of a church building.

From the States to Canada and back again, only to be redirected, to a city on the edge of the Colorado plateau; miles from home, where familiarity had faded into oblivion. Now, a pilgrim on the earth, like Abraham, who knew that his true home was only with G-d alone. Wherever I may be called eventually to roam next, perhaps, even being uprooted again from this place near the San Francisco Peaks, I will heed the call, going in faith to where I am called.