Ancient History Revival

Civilizations fall, others rise in their place.

We have not always inhabited the same space,

as our ancestors did, over the centuries;

thus, we do not always share the same memories.

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How can this be, that across the generations,

so much is lost to the plans of nations –

rearranging, reshaping the maps of destiny,

driving our ancestors abroad to other countries?

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Fall back to the ways of prior days in the shtetl;

there is nothing lost, and only everything to be gained.

Return to the days of yore, when our forefathers saw,

ahead of time, the desolate nature of our souls,

and the promise of renewal from Above.

Reminisce

I went out to the hazel wood, drawn by the elaborate nomenclature,
of its trunks, branches, and leaves, as if something stirring in the wind
called to my soul. Because a fire was in my head, I needed to find a path, never before taken through these woods.


To my dismay, every way was already trodden with the footsteps
of my predecessors. For, my ancestors have passed by this way, on horseback, in carts, walking side by side. From the shtetls of Europe to the Golden Land of Opportunity. Assimilation entangled me.

Until the woods opened up to a grove swept clean of the debris
from past ages, raked clean by some heavenly angel, who with tears, showed pity towards me and my destiny. I have always searched within and without, above and below for a place to go, that I can call home.