Seek the Light

Broken unity,

echoes across time,

down through the ages,

as darkness covers this world;

we yearn for reconciliation.

As the day draws near,

our tears become crystal clear,

for the redemption is at hand,

and all across the land,

the fissures of the earth are healed,

as the names of the faithful are sealed,

in G-d’s handwriting, with love,

as we look to the skies Above.

Broken unity, fractured souls,

before darkness takes its toll,

we seek the light, mend our ways.

For we know the day will arrive,

when the dead will arise,

and death itself will be

swallowed up in victory.

Elegy 2

Is it at all possible
for your soul to be lifted up
out of the flames that consumed
your body in the crematorium?
Only ashes now, as a keepsake
that I can not understand,
for our treasure is in heaven,
and your soul is unbound,
by the constraints of the body.
Yet, the question remains
of your place in Olam Haba,
or consignment to an eternity
of the unending pain and suffering
that you had hoped to escape.

In the Depths

“Save me, O G-d; for the waters are come in even unto the soul.”

– Psalm 69:2, JPS 1917 Tanach

I will remain silent within my heart,

while gazing upon the adversity,

until words form from the depths

of my soul that can be spoken.


From within the heart words rise,

as close to life as they may sound,

only a distant glance remains,

as carried by these utterances.


A shattered life, broken dreams,

all re-arranged by a guiding hand

from above Who comforts my soul

during the Aftermath.


Washed up on the shores of life,
abandoned by the ships that pass by,
and only comforted by the sun – its rays
giving warmth to the soul.

Is this not the existential truth
discovered by all who seek more
than what this world has to offer?
The dark night will claim the soul,
until released into the light.

Transformation begins
when the soul, untethered
by the sins of yesteryear,
may fly above the flood of emotions,
the yearnings of the heart,
the clinging to the past,
and fallen expectations;
all the crushed hopes,
unrecognized dreams,
unrealized ambitions,
and beautiful sadness
of forbidden pleasures.

Then, the soul is free to explore
within the confines of Eden,
without touching the admixture
of good and evil that taunts
our discernment, and taints
our decisions without mercy,
because sin seeks to rule us;
yet, the godly soul must climb
above all that hinders its sanctity.

Ashes Risen

We will rise from the ashes,
as we have always done,
across the generations.
When the vitriolic verbosity
has reached its peak, and
spills over into persecution,
we will not bow to pressure.

We will not remain silent,
except within our hearts,
when we cry out in prayer.
Happy are those who wait,
until the darkness passes
from this time on earth.

Memory Lane

By Your light, may we see light.

Psalm 36:10

A wistful evening,

as I reflect upon past Thanksgivings;

a blend of events and images would stream by,

if I were able to place these within the framework of a lens,

montage footage, spanning twenty-five years.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Thanksgiving dinner on Gabriola Island,

where I lived during the winter of 1994-1995,

always waking up at 4:00 a.m., to feed the flames,

remaining on the embers in the woodstove,

in the center of my small living space.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

I slept in the canyons of Sedona in ’95,

until I sold my car when the money ran out;

blessed with a cozy spot, where I slumbered

with my back up against the wall of a sanctuary,

nestled away, on a side road off of HWY 89A.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Two weeks later, on Thanksgiving Eve,

I Ieft my place of refuge and walked north

on the highway through West Sedona, and

stopped off at Denny’s, for Thanksgiving dinner,

where I spent the night, awake at the table.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Being brought low, before renewed from Above,

starting my life over again, for the sake of the soul’s

flight from the constraints of its prison,

where it languished, confined to the darkness

of ignorance, conditioning, and aveiros (sins).

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Now, every Thanksgiving, I prefer to reflect

in solitude from Thursday to Sunday,

with a good book to steer my conscience

in the right direction, after all of these years,

like the flame of a candle reaching toward heaven.